DARKISH SOULS
by Queen Sydon
Summary: Seek Guidance; Hurl Lightning Spear. Everything starts to make sense. Praise the motherf &*ing sun.
1. Seek Guidance

_In the Age of Ancients, _

_The world was a pretty shitty place, shrouded by fog._

_A land of grey crags, archtrees, and everlasting dragons who didn't give a shit when their tails got carved off._

_And then there was Fire_

_And with Fire came absolute fucking confusion. Heat! Cold! Life AND Death. Light and Dark! No wonder everybody went nuts when all this shit appeared. _

_Then, from the Dark, They came_

_And found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Pretty epic._

_Nito, the first of the dead. And his stupid resurrecting skeletons._

_The Witch of Izalith, and her sexy daughters of chaos._

_Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights with no fashion sense._

_And the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten and so easily stirring up shit theories on the net._

_Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. So much for his faithful knights doing any work._

_The witches weaved great firestorms, because that's the first thing that comes to mind when fighting motherfucking dragons; light that shit up._

_Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease, which he then refused to reverse, leaving him in piss poor standing with the other lot. _

_And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own just because he could, and without any bloody legs no less. _

_And the Dragons were no more (wink, wink). _

_Thus began the Age of Fire, which is a lot like Christmas but less violent. _

_But soon, the flames will fade, and only the Dark will remain. Which doesn't make any sense. Fire going out? Kindle that bitch. Don't tell me they ran out of things to burn. That's fucking ridiculous. _

_Anyway, there are only embers, and man sees not light, but endless nights._

_And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign. Which will never be properly explained. Is it just the Chosen Undead who has it? Or everyone who's going Hollow. Nobody knows. And so begins the journey, and the end of any concrete storytelling…_

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

**I**

Lordran was indeed a stupid place. There was wasn't much to do if you weren't the chosen undead. You either turned into a hollow and have to suffer the utterly insulting physics engine that sent your limbs flinging about in an idiotic dance every time some hero stampeded over your corpse, or hang out in Firelink and mope about with four-five lines of pre-scripted dialogue to your credit. You better hope you have some items or spells to sell, or you'll probably be perpetually ignored, and that's the _best scenario_. God forbid you drop any humanity upon being slain.

If you were the Chosen Undead though, great adventures abound! Sure it wouldn't be easy, and death would most certainly rear its ugly head from time to time. But HO! The Darksign'll take care of that little inconvienance. Then its back to more Adventures! Upgrading Weapons and Armor! Finding Loot! Collecting Souls! All the while feeling a very satisfying sense of accomplishment at completing such an ardous journey.

That's the problem, however. Chosen Undead. Singular. There was only one of them in that current reality. And it sure as hell wasn't him or Stacy. Whilst the Great Big Hero was out trying to ring the Bells of Awakening; a task which shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, he was just sitting on the soft grass playing a rather complicated game of cards with his partner.

His name was Bob of Kerns. Kerns being the town he was from: A tiny mountainside village so obscure and unimportant that it could be wiped off the face of the earth by a fleet of Stone Dragons and no one would lose their lunch over it. Stacy was from there too. They'd grown up together, not because they particularly liked each other or fulfilled any sort of human need, but simply for the fact that there was no else.

It'd all started in that crappy Asylum. He and Stacy had been whisked away there for no reason whatsover. Were either of them even Undead? Nobody seemed to give a shit to even bother to ask, so Bob just ignored it.

It'd would've made for one hell of start to an adventure; breaking free from the shackles of imprisonment and instrumenting a daring escape from the Asylum, learning the ropes whilst they were at it.

Nope. A deep, lurching impact that sounded like a great demon slamming its ass into the ground, had dislodged the rusted cell door holding Bob and Stacy within its rank confines. After that, the two just trotted out without a fight, noting with mild interest the corpses of _real _undead scattered about, capped off by the deceased carcass of the Asylum Demon lying dejectedly at the front door with is ugly head Claymore'd off.

Of course, the waiting time on the giant Raven was a minimum of forty minutes. Which meant the Chosen Undead already had an unfairly long early start.

So now, they waited. Biding their time with their inane banter and hopelessly convoluted card game. No use chasing after the Hero at that point. Bob and Stacy agreed that there was no rhyme or reason for either of them to risk their lives on some fools errand. Plus, they were pretty sure they weren't Undead, or Hollow or whatever. Death would probably be permanent. All the more reason not to go off galivanting on some miraculous quest just so someone who was "Chosen" would end up getting all the credit.

'Allright, I'm putting my Hellkite Drake in the face-down-left position with three amber power crystals attached to its boost cloister. Which activates my Bridge of Flame magic card. Say goodbye to your Hollow Soldiers.' Stacy muttered, peering out from the cowl of her milk-white maiden robe with a lazy and bored expression. A finely cut crop of dull blonde hair peeked out from the hood, masking her pale face further. A cleric or saint, one might think by looking at her, but the Zweihander (+2) laying at her side said otherwise.

'Fuck.' Bob replied simply as he Soul-Shifted his vanquished creatures to his Third Deck Beta crossroad; ready to fight again in seven and a half Polar Moonshift phases, that is IF Stacy didn't cast that dreaded Homunculus Spell card again in two Nerhoips.

In other words, Bod didn't know what the shit he was doing, and Stacy probably didn't either. Still, it passed the time at least _pretending _they were playing a game.

'Urgh. I'm getting sick of this.' Bob grumbled as he shifted on his sitting position for the twelfth time in the span of a minute. The Knight Armor he was wearing was chaffing so bad that three different places would be itching at he same time, if he was lucky. Bob wasn't even a Knight. He'd just found the set lying on the floor of the Asylum; conveniantly contained within a bright white plume of embers. He'd tried the Elite Knight set too, which looked way more badass, but unfortunately with his goliath 11 points in endurance, the stuff slowed him to a pathetic gait. 'Why's that self-righteous bastard taking so long? You wouldn't think killing a Lesser Demon would take more than a few minutes.'

'You're one to talk. Remember that Hollow Zombie you so gracefully vanquished? You were hacking away at it for ten minutes before you decided to just throw him of a cliff.'

'Hey, at least he gave us 25 souls between us. You'll be thanking me when that Prism Stone saves our lives.'

'REAL smart investment there. Maybe if your intelligence wasn't in the single digits, one of us could actually learn some sorcery.'

'Why don't you learn to shoot lasers out of a stick then, if its so important.'

Stacy shrugged nonchantly at that. 'Faith build, with a two hander.'

Bob grumbled again. SOME kind of magic would be useful. Unfortunately, he didn't want to speak with that moron at the entrance of the New Londo ruins again. Sure, he was selling some basic Soul Arrow spells which Bob reckoned he could wrap his head around, but their last encounter had made him incredibly uncomfortable;

'Oy! I'm Rickert of Vinheim! Esteemed Magic blacksmith! I sell the rarest titanite in the game. Green Motherfuckers!'

'What're you doing in that little hole. I almost waltzed off a cliff getting here too. Not really a sharp place to set up shop.' Bod had commented warily.

'Whatever pal. So I gots two ways to do this; Magic or Enchanted. Which will it be?'

'How exactly do you work?' Stacy chipped in incredously. The prick was just sitting in that little hole built into the ruins without so much as a fork in the way of tools. She also noticed there was no exit or entrance to the place. The horrid and stagnant smells coming from in there weren't lending themselves to Rickerts claims of being more than a crazed hobo.

'Let's go, Stace.' Bob had graciously suggested, leaving Rickert to scream profanties at them as they left.

'Ya worthless bums! Just watch me work moyy magic smithin!'

Rickert then made several loud and theatric noises with his voice; doing his best to sound like he was actually making weapons that existed beyond his imagination.

When he had noticed the two were long gone, he scoffed to himself. 'Heh, losers. Just wait till the ghosts get em! Good thing I'm safe in ere!'

All the screaming and noise had attracted the attention of the aforementioned phantasms, who were already sick to death of Rickert's bitching. They'd phased through the walls into his little hidey hole and promptly hacked him to the death, unknowingly doing a great service to all mankind.

Back at Firelink, Bob and Stacy waited another five minutes in silence before both decided to hatch a master plan.

'Hey, why don't we kill the Chosen Undead? Probably got some good amount of Souls with him. Maybe even some humanity. We could use it to bribe our way back home somehow. What d'you think Stace?'

'Isn't it a little early to be plotting murder? I think we should just talk to him first, see what he's planning. Maybe he knows how to get out here without having to fight an army of demons to do so?' Stacy suggested evenly. ' We can always kill him later. Not like Death is a big deal anyway.'

As if on cue, the Holy Warrior Returnedth; sprinting at top speed down the sloping staircase hugging the cliffs to the north. He was wearing the Elite Knight Set, (_smug prick, Bob noted), and _duel wielding katanas like a jackass.

'Quick! There he is! Let's talk to him.'

Stacy hopped to her feet off the ground and approached the Hero, who was currently kindling the bonfire.

'Excuse me, Sir. I just need to ask you a few questions, if you would be so kind.' Bob heard her say when he waltzed up to her side. Chosen just watched her blankly, not saying a word. His sweet-looking helmet hid his face completely, so Bob had no clue what expression the son of a bitch wore.

'Uh, hello?' She tried again to reach him, waving her white-gloved hand in front of his face. Still no reaction. 'The hell is his deal?' Stacy motioned gruffly at Bob, so he took it as his turn to get through to him.

'Mr Hero? Chosen Undead or whatever. You help people, right? It just comes naturally to people who have the fates on their side and all that. Stacy and I want to get out of here. Do you know how? Maybe you can convince that giant bird up there to break protocol and take us somewhere besides that piece of shit Asylum.'

_Clink! _The Elite Knight Armor rattled as Chosen titled his head at Bob. He then thrust his hands up in the air in a jovial V with his feet together. It was simultaneously the gayest _and _most badass pose Bob had ever seen in his life. Chosen dropped a glowing item at his feet then sprinted away shortly after, heading for the downward path to the New Londo ruins.

Bob and Stacy just stood where they were for several minutes by the glowing embers of the Firelink bonfire until Stacy took some iniative and scooped the dropped item from the floor.

'What is it?' Bob asked curiously. Stacy turned to him utterly stone-faced.

'…Prism Stone.'


	2. White Sign Soapstone

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

**II**

Solaire of Astora was quite the odd fellow. When he wasn't gazing adoringly towards the sun he so graciously bore on every piece of equipment he wore, the stout Warrior of Sunlight seemed to have made it his mission to make every one around him extremely uncomfortable.

'Say, you look like a young, strapping man with a bold sense of justice. Why not join me as we spread the glory of the beloved sun to the rest of mankind?'

This Knight, Solaire was an enigma. Every word the man uttered came off sounding like some kind of sexual innuendo. But his tone, laced with such a carefree and child-like whimsy, made it hard not to be somehow drawn to him. Did he love the Sun and have such an unwavering belief in himself and the inherent good of man? Or was he insane? Was that naivete and joy of his simply a mask that shielded him from the dark horrors of Lordran?

Whatever the case, Solaire sure was friendly.

'What d'you mean by that? Look, I was just asking if you'd seen the Chosen Undead run by here. I know one of the bells is across the bridge and atop the Parish, so he must've passed by at some point.' Bob asked him, absently noting how goofy Solaire's armor seemed. The cheesy sun motif cresting his chest was smiling brightly, and winking suggestively at him.

'Ah yes, that radiant warrior! Why, he passed by here not too long ago. He even spoke to me and accepted my offer of helping one another on this brilliant journey. Isn't that swell? Hah, hah, hah…'

Solaire's laugh was out of place and uncalled for, but there was no doubt in Bob's mind that the man's jovial chuckle was sincere.

'Ok, then Mr Solaire. Is there anything we should know before crossing this bridge?' Stacy jumped into the converstation, arcing her head high at the tall Knight whose armor glinted with a steely sheen that partially blinded her.

'There's no need for formalities, young maiden.' Solaire laughed again. 'We are jolly companions in this world. As for your question, you should stay wary of the Drake prowling this area. That ill-tempered beast has a habit of wreathing this very bridge in flames when it senses souls trying to cross its expanse.'

'Well, that sucks.' Stacy hung her head dejectedly. They could hardly fight a Hollow Soldier between the two of them. A Drake was out of the question.

'Trust in yourself, and have faith in the Sun. I will show you the way past this most ardous of trials.'

'Wow, really?' Bob was geniunely surprised. He'd started to think everyone in Lordran was either insane, and asshole, or a combination of both.

'Of course…some stamina is required.' Solaire continued. 'Are you ready?'

'Ready-?'

'PRAISE THE SUN!'

Solaire suddenly took off running across the bridge, leaving Bob and Stacy frozen in place for a split second before their rusty reflexes finally kicked in and chased after him.

Bobs Knight Armor was already taking a toll on his cardio. He'd been in pretty bad shape to begin with, and the clunky suit of steel made it all the worse. Every heavy footfall of his sent a painful jolt shooting up his body. His erratic heaving breaths fluted through the slits in his helmets visor that had annoyingly clanged into place when he had started running. Stacy was faring no better; though her clothes were much lighter, the long dress didn't suit itself well to running a marathon. Solaire amazingly had no trouble surging forward at top speed, even with that large round metal shield and sword in hand.

Then Bob heard them. Impending doom signalled by a sudden onrush of closing wingbeats. The end of the bridge seemed so unfairly far now, stretching away to such a distance that mocked his horrid speed and pace. The unseen monstrosity at his rear seethed and seared the very air; announcing its coming inferno.

They weren't going to make it, Bob realized in that horrible moment. He cursed himself for not being in better shape, for failing his only companion in the world after promising her he'd see them both safe. Oh wait, that never happened. But he still felt bad about it.

But then, gloriously, Solaire quickly cut right as he ran; bounding down a concealed passageway half way across the bridge. Bob screamed something to Stacy as they bolted. Her wide eyes instantly told him she understood his panicked shout. Then with one last burst of what tiny sliver of stamina remaining, Bob and Stacy leapt into the air towards the staircase. Not a half-second later, Bob literally felt the back of his armor singe his skin as an onrush of flames utterly swallowed the air behind him as he fell.

He tried to land but the speed and angle of a fall down a staircase proved too much, so he and Stacy tumbled as one mess of robe and steel before crashing to the bottom in a sore, exhausted heap.

Bob's mind was spinning, every inch of his body screaming in protest and pain, and his helmet was so hot it was like someone had lit his hair on fire within it.

Solaire was quick to help them untangle themselves and waited patiently as they lay their sodden backs against a wall and caught their breath.

'My, that was exciting! That Drake was quicker than I gave it credit for. Heh, heh, heh!'

The Warrior of Sunlight wasn't even panting or showing the slightest signs of fatigue. Bob thought to curse at the man for not explaining the plan in any manner, but was too exhausted and begrudgingly in his debt one way or another.

Once they'd rested long enough, Bob and Stacy decided to start moving again. They hadn't heard the Bell of Awakening toll yet, which meant the Chosen Undead wasn't too far away.

'Hey Bob.' Stacy whispered quietly before they moved on, keeping a wary eye on Solaire nearby, who was predictably gazing up the Sun once again. 'I think we should convince Solaire to come with us. He's pretty strong, and seems to like helping others.'

Bob listened to her quietly. As she was giving her suggestion, Stacy watched Solaire with a warm hint of admiration gracing her normally pale features. Of course, at this point, who could blame her. Solaire was leagues ahead in combat prowess than Bob could ever hope to be. In fact, Stacy was probably stronger than himself at his point. Also, Solaire seemed like a intersting fellow, despite his eccentricities.

'Ok, Stace. Turn up the charm. Let's see if this Warrior of Sunlight can withstand your shine.'

It hadn't been the first time they'd hatched such a plan. Though Stacy was just as brash and gross as Bob, she had the advantage of looking adorable. Many a time had passed when the two of them would get free meals and lodging by the batt of her big eyelashes.

And that day would be no different.

'Excuse me, oh brave Solaire…' Stacy began the act, stepping in close to him with her gloved hands clasped to her breast. 'This humble maiden wishes for your unyielding bravery at her side for this journey. I may not be as incandescent as the Sun, but I implore thee to become the spark of starlight my lonely heart so craves.'

Solaire studied her for a moment. Then did his trademark laugh.

'You've quite the talent for theatrics Fair Stacy…'

_Oh crap. _

Stacy gaped in disbelief at the Knight. He truly was much more intelligent than he seemed.

'…I am flattered you would go to such lengths to sway my heart. But you forget, I am a companion to all. I will see you through this journey, and with the Sun as my witness, protect you with its brilliance.'

Bob noticed Solaire had left him out of that little decleration.

'Oh, well…uh.' Stacy was actually flustered and picking desperately for words to match Solaire's eloquent speech. 'Thank you Solaire. I truly mean that.'

'Well, best we be off then. Stay close to me, Fair Stacy.'

The plan had _sort of _worked. Either way, Solaire was helping them now. And Bob appreciated the man's help.

'Hey Solaire, you're allright.' Bob called out as the Warrior of Sunlight led the way forward with his weapons at the ready.

'Oh? You are most kind, Young Bob. If I didn't know better, I'd say he had feelings for me! Oh…pretend you didn't hear that. Hah, hah, hah!'

Bob immediately regretted everything.


	3. Praise the Sun!

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

**III**

Those Balder Knights were sporting pimp-ass capes. As soon as Bob noticed that crimson swish of badass clothing, he knew he had to have it. Of course, because this was pre-patch 1.05, the Knights were fucking badasses. He thought he'd gotten lucky with a backstab to one of them with his short sword, but the armoured pimp had shrugged off the pathetic 22 points of damage with an annoyed growl. Stacy fared no better as the Balder Knight easily back-stepped completely out of reach of her wide Zweihander strikes.

The two might have been killed if a certain jolly man hadn't accompanied them. Solaire further reinforced his brilliance by flooring the enemy with a crackling spear of lightning that sent it screaming through the air before being pinned to the adjacent wall. When the magic lance fizzled away, the Balder Knight collapsed in a heap to the floor and Bob pounced on his hilariously raggedy corpse.

'Thanks for the sweet cape.' He grinned devilishly, prying the chest armour from the fallen beast.

'My, you have quite the liking of Balder aesthetics, Young Bob.' Solaire mused, watching Bob as he quickly replaced his shitty Knight Armour with his preferred steel garb.

Stacy stood by Solaire; surveying the surroundings carefully. The Warrior of Sunlight was powerful, but they couldn't afford to be careless.

'Thanks again for coming with us, Solaire. We'd get nowhere without you.'

'You need not thank me, Fair Stacy. As I stated before, it is my duty to protect the utterly weak and helpless.'

It was impossible to tell if the man was being sarcastic or serious. Though taking his character into account, it was probably the latter.

'Piece of shit!' Bob suddenly screamed, hurling the Balder Armour five whole feet in a fit of rage. 'The bloody thing doesn't have a cape when I put it on! The physics are there, at least for the enemy! So why doesn't it apply to me?'

'Shut up, will you? You're embarrassing me…' Stacy grimaced, tugging her hood over her eyes in some vain attempt to shield her from Solaire's most likely indifferent gaze.

'Psh, let's move then. The Chosen Undead can't be far.'

Just as they started moving again, Solaire suddenly stopped.

'Oh my.' He exclaimed to himself, amused.

'Huh? What's w-WHAT THE SHIT.' Stacy so elegantly blurted.

Solaire was _disappearing_. His whole body was already see-through and phasing out rapidly. He gave the two a curt look, seeming to want to say something poetic, but could no longer speak. And before anything could be done, he was gone, leaving the two woefully unprepared "warriors" in the middle of the parish without a prayer.

'Oh man, now what? We can't go back to the bridge with that Drake flying around.' Bob despaired, sinking to the floor. 'We can't fight those badass Balder Knights either…this is-'

'Hey!' Stacy yelled angrily. She firmly planted a swift and weighty kick into Bob's thigh, earning a pained yelp as a result. He looked up at her in disdain but instantly faltered under her wrathful gaze.

He'd never seen her so pissed off. Bob guessed she'd taken a very sudden liking to Solaire of Astora so to have him up and vanish like that must've hurt her deep.

'Get up! We have to move! I can't take this stupid place and its bloody confusing rules. We're gonna march up this fucking parish and ring that goddamn bell before the Hero does!'

Bob gaped at her. 'W-why…' He croaked pathetically.

Stacy didn't answer. She instead roughly yanked Bob to his feet by his armour and drew his sword from its sheath before shoving it into his hands.

The whole motion was wordless but Stacy might as well had recited a wondrous sermon. It reminded Bob how they'd managed to live day by day back in their own land.

_Fuck the rules. _

That was the mantra they survived by. And as far as Bob was concerned, it was all they ever needed.

'EyyyAGGGHH!' Bob screamed, his blood now alight with brave insanity. He charged forward through the yawning doorway of the Parish with sword in hand. The lone Balder Knight within watched him approach with a hint of bemusement in its leathery, decayed face.

'FUCK YO CAPES!' Bob exclaimed and attacked; but not the way the rapier-wielding hollow expected. At the last second before contact, Bob simply threw his sword aside and spear tackled the enemy clean off its feet before slamming him to the dusty floor with a resounding shriek of metal on stone.

The Hollow let out a groan of frustration and disbelief. It's SO wanted to display the sweet rapier riposte it'd spent months working on.

'Piss off!' Stacy stepped in then and let rip a brutal kick to the downed opponent's head. The attack cleanly severed the Balder Knight's head which sailed end over end across the chapel before going through a well-placed hoop in the wall.

Blind with momentum, Bob and Stacy continued to run straight inside without a moment's pause. Even when they barrelled into a room full of hollow zombies and a Six-Eyed Channeler, they didn't slow down a fraction.

'BLARGYAKAKARISS' The Channeler screamed; firing a barrage of lasers at the sprinting duo. The stream of attacks missed them and instead blasted apart a few of the unfortunate zombies standing around. Bob peered over his shoulder as he ran, smirking to himself as the group of hollows floored the stupid Channeler and proceeded to kick the shit out of him on the ground.

'Ladder!' Stacy called out, already lunging up the rungs at speed. Bob followed with his heart racing a mile a minute. This had to be the way to the top of the parish. If he could just do this one thing then the whole ordeal would be over sooner. Plus, he'd forever have that one thing over the Chosen Undead. That guy wasn't going to have all the bloody credit.

After another burst of sprinting and ladder climbing, Bob and Stacy emerged from the rank confines of the chapel to the roof. Up ahead on the other side of it was the Bell Tower itself.

However, they actually had to stop this time due to the little obstruction of the hellish battle already underway.

The Chosen Undead was there; swinging his dual katanas around like he had unlimited stamina. A huge stone gargoyle was taking the brunt of the attacks but was swinging back with a halberd with equal gusto. Nearby was Solaire of Astora, now composed of a plasmic golden shine. He was tussling with a second gargoyle; riding the thrashing beast like a wild animal as he pummelled its head with his bare hands.

Whether the beasts had noticed the new fighters entering the ring or not, the bursts of flame they puked out singed awfully close to them.

'This is nuts! We can't stay here!' Bob yelled, already exhausted from the trip there. He yanked Stacy's arm and made to exit through the narrow doorway they'd entered through, only to find the thing was blocked off by a thick grey mist.

'What the shit is this?' He gawked and tried to punch his way through it and immediately cried out in pain as his fingers dislocated upon impact.

Stacy pulled him this time, so roughly in fact that Bob completely lost his footing. The gargoyles tail sliced through the air where he'd been, pinging off the indestructible fog also which earned the creature a howl of pain.

'Aw, hell. Would you look at his?' Stacy groaned as they lay prone side-to-side at the tip of the roof; watching the battle unfold before them. 'What'd we get ourselves into?'

Bob didn't answer right away. He was quite literally in awe of the fight, particularly how Solaire was handling it. At one point, he'd managed to drop one of the beasts from the sky with a perfectly aimed lightning bolt and as soon as it had crashed to the floor, followed up with a brutal lunging dropkick that knocked its teeth out.

Stacy seemed to be in the same boat as Bob for she couldn't take her eyes off the man at all, even as the fight would draw dangerously close.

'Solaire's amazing!' She exclaimed with bright eyes and a sadistic, glowing smile.

The battle soon came to an end in glorious victory when one of the gargoyles had its head cleaved off by the Chosen just as the other was finished off by Solaire and a dazzling lightning-infused uppercut that launched the entire screaming beast off the rooftop and crashing to the parish floor far below.

Bob and Stacy moved on reflex and ran up to Solaire; cheering and singing praise for his badass display of prowess.

Solaire took it like a champ, modest and bashful of course.

'You speak too kindly of me, my friends. Actually, I should probably apologize for being summoned in the midst of our journey before. But I am most gracious that you two appear unharmed.'

Stacy took the gratitude to new territory when she rushed forward and wrapped Solaire in a big warm hug.

'Oh my!' Solaire actually appeared mildly surprised for once.

Stacy sniffed a little and pulled away slowly, gazing up at him with teary eyes.

'That uppercut was fucking badass…' She sobbed and buried her face in the sleeves of her robe.

Bob had been utterly distracted with the touching scene that he suddenly remembered what he and Stacy had so recklessly charged in there to do.

But before he'd taken even a single step, the blaring clangs of the Parish Bell rang out over all Lordran, signalling to Bob that he was too late.

To make matters even more embarrassing, he actually spotted the Chosen Undead standing at the top of the Bell Tower watching him. He gave Bob a wide, rude gesture that practically screamed "Well? What is it, pussy?!' and Homeward Boned away in flash of white light.

'Son…of a bitch.' Bob fumed, shaking so bad from anger that his gauntlets rattled away in symphony.

'Do not fret, Young Bob.' Solaire appeared beside him, now back to his normal colour. 'There is still one more Bell of Awakening that must be reached.'

'He's always ten miles ahead of us. How're we gonna reach it before him this time?' Stacy retorted, standing _very_ close to the Warrior of Sunlight_; _whom didn't notice or care.

Solaire answered her query by fishing something from a satchel at his waist; a ring of finely carved keys glinting with possibilities.

'Is that…?' Stacy breathed.

Bob wondered what to say, so instead just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

'Praise the motherfucking Sun.'


	4. Shrug

**Dark(ish) Souls**

IV

Shrug

Those three shining items were mocking them. The dull white-ish sheen of them simply begging any passer-by's to scoop them up and enjoy the spoils. It was especially important to Bob and Stacy, who were lying prone on the grassy cliff with a pair of binoculars between them. After all, they were the only items (aside from a prism stone earlier), they had found un-pillaged. The Great Chosen Undead was apparently a kleptomaniac, as after clearing one area or another he'd make sure to pick everything up that wasn't nailed to the floor. In short, that left nothing for them…until now.

Though there was one problem; the decaying corpse of half a dragon cresting the items like a silent guardian.

The ploy was so obvious, but dangerous all the same. It was just a matter of planning. Stacy suggested they rush the thing at once, scoop an item each and bail as fast as their legs could carry them.

It sounded like a good enough idea, and Bob didn't want to wait around whilst the Chosen cleared the Depths and eventually caught up with them, but he was still hesitant.

What if the drake woke up too soon? What if it chased them all back to Firelink and blocked the path for good?

'I don't like this.' Stacy murmured, peering through the binoculars with her lips pursed. 'Who knows what that thing will do?'

Bob nodded and peered back at Solaire, who again was listlessly peering off into the sky, lost in whatever curious thoughts rattled about in that bucket helmet of his. He didn't want to bother Solaire with every little thing; and the last thing he wanted to do was get him killed for the sake of some random treasure.

'Fuck this. I'm sick of waiting around.' Bob growled, trying to sound tough but barely keeping his voice from shaking.

'Yeah, let's do it. Ready Solaire?'

The Warrior of Sunlight broke from his reverie with chilling precision and immediately fell into position beside them; crouched and ready to blitz.

'Hah, hah, hah…this is like a merry competition, is it not? Do not fret, I shanty keep all the spoils.'

'Oh you…' Stacy chided playfully and tapped the top of his helm.

Bob steadied his breathing, eyeing the items ahead and doing his best to blotch the image of the Drake's corpse from his vision.

'Alright…on my mark. Three…two…one…PENDANT!'

All three shot off the grid as one, boots and feet pounding the floor, sharp winds whistling through the helmets visors.

In a flash he was there, pulling a sweet drift as he turned about and scooped the item of the floor mid-swivel. For an instant he felt elation, excitement, relief, but was soon drowned in fear when a deafening rumble was emitted from the once still mass of bones and rotten flesh. Bob didn't even want to look, he just held his breath and tried to sprint away but his stupid blinding adrenaline and fear suddenly turned his knees to rubber.

And he fell. Hard. Bob went headfirst into the dirt, flipped, and tumbled to the ground painfully. He thought he heard someone shout his name but a blood-curling roar popped his ears and reduced all sound to a shrill, distant whine.

Bob was frantic, scrambling to his feet clumsily. His visor was clogged with dirt but he broke into a crouched run nonetheless. He realized then that the gods must've hated him because he almost immediately drove into a wall. The impact knocked his helmet off and again drove his ass into the dirt. On instinct he turned back away from the wall to be met with the Undead Drake's festering claw bearing down on him.

Suddenly, the view was obscured. Solaire was in front of him, blocking the attack with his Sunlight Shield.

'This beast is no match for a disciple of the Way of Sunlight!' Solaire laughed. _Laughed._

Bob could only scurry backwards on the grass until his back was to the wall. He absently wondered where his helmet had gone.

'Fair Stacy, if you would be so generous…' Solaire called out calmly, not a hint of exertion in his tone even as he braced against the Drake's claw trying to mercilessly shunt him out of the way.

Stacy appeared from the side , hefting her Zweihander above her head and shrieking out an atrocious battle cry. With a vicious downward swing her sword cleaved into the bony wrist of the Drake's claw. Even though her attack bounced right off it nevertheless caused the Drake to howl in pain and retract its claw. Solaire moved like lightning then, so swift and carefree as Bob continued to sit on his ass and gape. The Warrior of Sunlight leapt into the air and drove his sword down into the Drake's other claw; which was the only thing keeping the stinking beast on the ledge.

It realized this too late before gravity did its job and sent the whole rotting mass roaring down into the misty depths of the valley.

'WOOH! Look at that!' Stacy screamed happily, peering over the edge of the cliff where the Drake had just fell. 'I love you, Solaire!'

Bob wanted to make some snarky comment as he watched Stacy hug Solaire tight. Solaire simply laughed merrily at the display of affection and patted the top of Stacy's head, who beamed at the response.

Unfortunately Bob had pissed his armour so he was fine sitting there for a while.

X

Blight Town was a stinking cesspool of humidity, darkness and bad level design. And Bob loved it, mostly because the place smelled so bad that neither of his companions noticed he'd soiled himself previously. The various enemies weren't a problem either, at least for Solaire. The fat and stupid barbarians literally coated in shit were easily parried and riposted by him, netting the group a nifty amount of souls. They consistently dropped items too, although Bob stopped picking them up after his gauntlets became smeared in shit three times in a row.

'Well, this is dreary place.' Solaire mused as he peered downwards from the rickety walkway of wooden planks they stood upon. Bob wasn't really paying attention due to the insane amount of lag plaguing his every move. He'd almost trotted off the edge at one point because his glitchy legs stuttered forward far more than they should've. 'There also appears to be some kind of strange time dilution here. Whatever gods created this place must have possessed a flimsy and careless will.'

'That's one way to put it.' Stacy muttered, then nodded her head towards a nearby torch basking the sodden planks in flickering orange light. 'The lights, I think they're markers. I can see a ladder there.'

She was right. The lit torches rested at the tips of the walkways had one set of ladders leading down after another. There was even a pair of spinning gyro elevators that awkwardly led them further down. He almost toppled off to his death there too when he walked off the contraption a little too slow and had to clumsily claw himself onto the walkway leading off it before the next moving platform sliced him in half.

After that embarrassing ordeal, another reared its ugly head; as Bob had been hobbling along, he picked up on a strange recurring sound nearby.

_Pft. Pft. Pft. _

'Huh?'

Solaire and Stacy were a little further ahead and didn't hear him. The sound continued unabated, faster this time.

_PFT! PFT! PFT! PFT! _

'The hell is that?' He blurted aloud, panicky and confused. Bob swivelled on the spot for a bit until he noticed a growing itchiness around his thigh area. Then something much worse dawned on him; his health was plummeting.

'Ah, FUCK! What the shit is going on?!'

His cohorts heard him this time and quickly rushed to his aid. Solaire immediately realized what was wrong with Bob and tried to calm him down.

'Toxin! Be still, Young Bob.'

'ARGH! How the _FUCK _did this happen!' He screamed shrilly and flailed his arms about. Stacy, with her keen eye, was able to find the source of the attack.

There was some prick off on the other end of the walkway; firing blow darts out of a pipe machine-gun style.

'Son of a bitch.' She seethed and charged the sneaky bastard. With a swift left hook she smashed the tip of the pipe mid-blow and spiked it clean through its head.

When Stacy wheeled about she groaned inwardly at the sight of Bob dancing about in hysterics as Solaire continued to try and control the mounting situation.

'Curses! Normal moss will not cure this ailment…' Solaire advised carefully. 'There's not much time…'

'What do we do?! This is such a stupid way to die!'

'Wait! There's a bonfire down at the bottom level. Maybe we can reach it before the toxin makes your heart explode.'

'Oh that's just _fucking _great. Let's race down there with this lag until we break our necks at some point.'

Stacy curtly slapped Bob upside the helm.

'Stop your bitching! Sol's just trying to help!'

'That's it!' Solaire yelled so suddenly that Bob and Stacy screamed briefly.

'What's it?!' Bob asked hysterically.

X

Solaire of Astora was surfing down the sheer slimy walls of Blight Town on a loose plank at incredible speeds; a full-grown man carried in his arms in the princess position as well as a young foul-mouthed and violent maiden wrapping her arms around his waist and shrieking out every obscenity from the furthest reaches of Lordran.

With a huge splash that kicked up a wave of disgusting sludge the three hit the swamp at the base of Blight Town. Solaire lost no speed and took off running at top speed with the ever faltering Bob in his arms.

'Fair Stacy! Please clear a path!' He ordered valiantly as he ran. Stacy complied immediately and cut down the weak-ass bug monsters that slowly approached them. One in particular drew too close and drew in a guttural breath; ready to puke out a wave of flame.

'Oh no you don't you little prick!' Stacy roared and brought her Zweihander down on its head with the flat of the blade. The monster let out a hilarious shriek at its brittle body literally exploded as it was squashed into the thick sludge of the swamp.

'AUGH!' Stacy yelled in dismay as her once pristine robes were now covered in a combination of monster intestines and the collective waste of the entire populace of Lordran. 'Fucking Lag Town!'

Bob's vitality was in the double digits now. He could feel what little life left in him ebb away into nothing.

Just as he began to lose consciousness, Solaire brought him back momentarily with a sharp yell.

'Young Bob! I must ask for your forgiveness in advance!'

'Uh?'

Solaire flung him through the air with mighty force. Bob was too tired to care at that point and relishing being airborne before the end. Though that catharsis quickly passed when he felt his ass catch on fire.

'HOLY-!'

Bob jumped to his feet in a flash; screaming and slapping the catching flames off his rear in a crazed dance.

'What the hell, man?! What was that f—'

Bob stopped himself and looked behind him. A light bonfire was crackling away at his feet. And he felt just fine.

'Huh. I guess those things really do work. Thanks Solaire. You saved my sorry ass again.'

'My pleasure, Young Bob.' Solaire smiled brightly. 'Now let's take those pants off.'

Bob had to pause a second to digest that particular comment.

'I bed your pardon?'

'You soiled yourself some time ago. Warriors such as us must set an example not just in character but appearance also.'

Bob let out a sigh of relief. 'Oh yeah. Of course, of course.'

Stacy emerged then from the large circular entrance into the damp chamber. She was covered head-to-toe in assorted liquid shit.

There was a brief silence before Solaire and Bob just burst out laughing.

'Fuck both of you.' She growled.


	5. Hurrah!

**DARK(ISH) SOULS**

Hurrah!

There was a fat naked woman chasing them across the murky swamp; completely unaffected by the thick sludge and running at top speed. There was also a brown sack on her head, and a gigantic cleaver in her hand. Bob wished he was making all that up.

Things had been fine just recently; Solaire was seperating the rock-throwing barbarians one after the other with well-aimed lightning bolts, until the phantom known as Maneater Mildred appeared and started wrecking shit up.

Now they were all running in circles, dodging huge flying boulders, fighting off the incredibly annoying mosquitos that infinitely respawned, and dealing with a naked invader. It was a glorious sight indeed.

'W-WOAH!' Bob screamed as Mildred slammed her cleaver into the ground with both hands just in front of him; almost slicing off the tips of his toes as he backpedalled clumsily. 'The fuck is your problem, woman?!'

'AIEEE!' Stacy bellowed with a mighty swing of her Zweihander and cut down two fierce flying insects with a single attack. 'This is pissing me off!'

Bob frantically looked about for Solaire, somewhat worried about the man, but really more worried about himself if the Warrior wasn't around to save him again. The barbarians were gone, probably killed. Stacy was still fighting off bugs with continious swings of her sword; her battle cries like rusted nails on porcelain.

Mildred was suddenly in front of him. Too close. Too personal. Bob cursed loudly, realizing he'd run out of stamina and couldn't roll away from whatever attack the crazed bitch would use.

She raised her cleaver high, pointing the tip to the heaven's and charged right at him wordlessly, a nano-second away from slicing his stinking ass in half. But then, she stopped, losing all forward momentum. Bob was further befuddled when Mildred started to slightly rise into the air. The Phantom whipped her head side to side, probably having no clue what was happening herself.

Solaire was there, gripping Mildred's chunky sides with both hands, hefting her fat ass off the swampy ground.

Bob gaped in utter disbelief. He wasn't going to…?!

The Warrior of Sunlight let out a mighty heave and _rammed _Mildred's disgusting sack-head into the floor in a perfect Lordran Suplex. The Phantom croaked and faded away, signalling the end of the fight.

Stacy approached Bob and stood by his side, gazing at Solaire with wide eyes.

'Did he just…?' She mumbled.

'Yes. Yes he did.'

X

Another wall of white fog stood before the trio, this one within a strange narrow corridor where the walls were stuffed with rank eggs the size of medicine balls and wrapped with cloying spiderweb.

'Hm, there's probably another powerful demon in there.' Bob said evenly.

'Look, a summon sign!' Stacy piped up happily, pointing to a mess of glowing letters plastered on the floor.

'Oh, what sweet fortune.' Solaire laughed. 'The more the jollier! Would you kindly do the honors, Fair Stacy?'

Stacy nodded fervently and stamped her feet on the summon sign with reckless abandon in a bid to coax out whatever phantom was hiding in its shiny surface.

'BLARGH!' Mildred screamed as she popped out of the floor.

'Oh…great.' Stacy muttered, watching Mildred with disdain as the phantom ran around on all fours and sniffed Solaire's legs with rabid curiousity.

'Let's just go.'

X

The next battle was nothing short of insanity. Chaos Witch Quelaag lived up to her name and ravaged the large chamber with globs of searing magma and continous swings of her flaming sword.

Bob had initially been taken aback by the demon's appearance, specifically the sultry look her upper half threw at him seductively. Though that quickly passed when the giant spider woman leapt high into the air and almost flattened him on the way down.

Mildred proved to be of some worth in that moment, for when Quelaag was bearing down on Bob, the crazed phantom cracked the blunt of her cleaver into one of the demons' spindly legs, drawing the monster's attention for a moment.

Solaire jumped in too and fought brilliantly, parrying Quelaag's sword with his shield and swinging at her upper half with deadly precision. Bob felt inspired at the display of raw skill and leapt into action himself. He made to hit one of the monster's legs from behind with his shortsword while it was busy tussling with Solaire, but the beast was much sharper than he gave it credit for. Before he could connect even once it lashed out one of its legs and swatted him away. The simple attack knocked the very breath out of him and probably snapped one of his ribs.

'Bob! You stupid Chaos Bitch!' Stacy yelled out and attacked Quelaag with her sword. She actually connected with a hefty swing that buckled the beast, but was surprisingly cut short in her attack when Solaire rushed in front of her and shoved Stacy back several feet.

'Ugh!' She landed hard on her ass and looked up at the man in hurt disbelief. 'Sol! The f-!'

Quelaag exploded. A sphere of burning magic energy blasted out from her body in a wide chastic burst. Mildred had been too close when it went off and took the brunt of the attack; throwing her fat body away violently. Even though Bob had been against the far wall he still felt the immeasurable heat of the blast singe the light fuzz on his chin.

Solaire blocked the attack with his shield, effectively protecting Stacy at his back. The force was too much for even him to handle as he too was thrown back; his Sunlight Shield wrenched away from his hand and frisbeeing across the room.

Quelaag smirked slyly as her greatest threat was deprived of his only defensive tool, and scurried towards him and Stacy rapidly.

'Stacy! Solaire!' Bob screamed in alarm, just then getting to his feet, his whole midsection throbbing painfully. He was too far away to do something, even to act as a decoy. Mildred was torpodoed into an egg sack at the other end; also unable to help.

'Sol! Here she comes!' Stacy warned and hurriedly got to her feet and entered a clumsy battle stance at his side.

Something wicked glinted in Solaire's eyes. Even as Quelaag quickly closed the distance between them, the Warrior of Sunlight remained unperturbed…and even a little amused.

'Fair Stacy. Do exactly as I say.' He commanded simply. Stacy just took one look at his eyes and immediately complied wordlessly.

As Bob was madly scrambling his way towards them with each laboured step sending spikes of pain shooting up his spine, he bore witness to something _incredible_.

Stacy two-handed her sword and threw a huge spinning slash in a wide 360 degree motion—at Solaire, who jumped into the air at the last moment, planted his feet on the blade _mid-swing, _and was catapulted across the room.

'Praise the SUN!' Solaire bellowed as he did his trademark pose, spun wildly and smashed his knee into Quelaag's head like a bolt of lightning.

Stacy gaped in disbelief. Bob stood his ground and blubbered hopelessly. Quelaag wasn't even moving…until her many legs folded in and the abomination rolled over onto its back and went silent.

Bob approached Solaire as the man calmly dusted himself off and gave him an earnest thumbs-up, which he returned with a cheeky wink.

Stacy appeared then with Solaire's shield held lovingly in her hands.

'Here you go, Sol.' She handed it to him with a bright smile. 'So when are we getting married?'

Solaire just let out a hearty laugh.


	6. Proper Bow

**DARK(ISH) SOULS**

Proper Bow

'Oh, dear…what have we here? Are you a new servant?'

The sickly, vomit-green figure with a skyscraper of eggs bulging out his back was blocking the trio's progress towards the nearby bonfire. They had a nice supply of souls built up from fighting through both the Undead Parish and Blight Town, which they were eager to spend before something stupid happened.

'Ah, eergh…' Bob couldn't answer right away. The Egg dude smelled _horrific_; like putrefied egg nog boiled with wet pig fat.

'Hey, can you move please? You're blocking the bonfire.' Stacy stated evenly. She was still filthy from the slog through the swamp. More than anything she just wanted to wring the grime and muck from her maiden robe, but the rhythmic sway of the walking egg sack annoyingly barred her wish.

'My word, a citizen of Blight Town.' Solaire approached, looking down at the creature with mild interest. 'Excuse us, kind sir. We seek to rest at the fire at your back. Can you please let us pass?'

'Only servants to our Fair Lady may pass here! Begone with you! Eingyi shall not let you pass!' He spat, nestling into the tight corridor.

The thought of simply beating Eingyi to death momentarily passed through Bob's mind. But the truth was, he just wasn't the kind to kill anything that wasn't trying to kill him. It didn't help that Eingyi had a name and personality: that of an uptight tool.

'Hrm. What do we do?' Bob asked his compatriots after they'd retreated a fair way from Eingyi's rank stench. They were huddled down in a sports team clinch as they formulated a plan.

'The guy stinks. But he's still somewhat human. I don't really want to hurt him.' Stacy murmured.

'The creature says that only servants may gain entrance. Perhaps we can temporarily join his covenant to use that bonfire?' Solaire suggested.

_Or just lie about it_, Bob thought. Although, he was getting to know Solaire pretty well, and the almost painfully-honest man wouldn't appreciate being in any way dishonest. Bob concluded that there probably wasn't any harm joining a Covenant at that point. At the very least, he could just bail at a later date.

'Let's go with Sol's idea. It's worth a shot.'

X

'You three again? I said off with you! I won't let anyone disturb our Fair Lady!'

Solaire took the helm.

'Please, you misunderstand. We were all hoping to join your esteemed Covenant. That's why we braved Blight Town; to serve the Fair Lady we've heard so much about.'

'OH!' Eingyi suddenly had a huge manic smile plastered on his ugly face. 'DO COME IN THEN!'

Stacy face palmed in disgust. 'Forever alone…'

Eingyi quickly scrambled out of the way and motioned them inside with frantic waves.

'Please pay your respects to our Fair Lady. Then let's sit down and discuss our innermost desires and secrets!'

Everyone tried to ignore him as they filed inside. All they wanted was to tag the bonfire and leave as quickly as possible. Though, something inside there quickly took their mind of Eingyi's overly excited chatter.

It was another Chaos demon in the same form as Quelaag. This one, however, seemed totally immobile; fused to the cavern walls by swathes of withering webs and stagnant egg sacks. To call her complexion pale was an understatement. Her skin was chalk-white, hair a dulling blonde that had long since its luster. The demon's lower spider-half looked more like a mummified bug husk than part of her body. Only its spindly legs seemed to move minutely; jittering with barely a flicker of life. Whoever the demon was, she didn't seem to notice their presence at all, never once opening her eyes or moving from her ongoing position of wordless prayer.

'What in the…' Bob breathed, hesitant but unafraid. He could somehow tell that that particular demon was no threat to anyone. In fact, it looked pathetically helpless.

'Wow. She's…beautiful…in a sad way.' Stacy commented quietly as she approached the demon carefully.

'Is this the Fair Lady? What a saddening sight…'

As Stacy closed in, the demon's eyes suddenly opened; her featureless white sockets settling on Stacy with a distant and lucid air.

Stacy herself stiffened in place at having gotten the demon's attention, but that quickly turned to sharp curiosity as she moved even closer to the Fair Lady, now almost face to face with her.

Bob wondered what she was thinking doing that, until he noticed that the demon's pale lips were moving slightly, though he couldn't hear a word. She was definitely trying to speak, but was either too silent or unable to do so at all. Nevertheless, she continued to mouth quiet nothings at Stacy, who appeared to be listening intently.

Bob then looked to Solaire for answers, but the man was rapt with attention at the strange scene just as he was.

Finally, the Fair Lady stopped communicating with Stacy, who turned to her companions with a brooding and depressed scowl .

'She called me Quelaag. She thinks I'm her sister.' Stacy told them grimly, glancing at the Fair Lady as she resumed to pray silently. 'Quelaag was…looking after her all that time. '

The joyous sense of their previous victory suddenly turned to ash. Bob felt a lurching pang of regret in his stomach. Quelaag had just been protecting her sister from intruders…intruders like them who'd barge in and wreck the place.

Stacy continued to whisper things to the Fair Lady. For a while, he was enraptured at witnessing the soundless exchange between the two. Bob just stood where he was with Solaire at his side for several minutes; just watching Stacy communicate with the demon with gentle and comforting whispers. At times, the Fair Lady would even smile weakly and nod her head at whatever Stacy was saying.

'We didn't kill Quelaag, did we?' Bob asked Solaire hesitantly, almost desperately.

'…I do not know.' Solaire replied darkly. He glanced at Bob momentarily, eyes suddenly widening in shock.

What was wrong with him…?

But then Bob felt the heat. Without another moment's hesitation he leapt into the air and slid across the ground painfully on his chest plate.

He scrambled to his feet and turned about in a clumsy panic. Quelaag was there, somehow having snuck up on them without a sound. Her flaming body mass was perched up high in the corridor, her legs on each wall holding her aloft.

And she looked _pissed_. The entire right side of her face was bulging from the blackish-purple bruise that skewed the rest of her façade. One eye was swollen shut, but the other was gleaming with unblinking malice; the blazing red pupil boring into the three of them.

With sudden, unflinching speed, Quelaag crossed the room towards her enfeebled sister. Bob immediately panicked and moved to warn Stacy, but Solaire beat him to it; already grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and pulling her out of the path of the rampaging Chaos Demon.

Bob froze, trying with all his will to calm his shaking limbs and nerves; waiting for the inevitable attack…which never came. Quelaag just stood where she was, braced for combat in between them and her sister.

She was protecting her, Bob realized. He then watched in silence as Quelaag turned slightly to her sister but never taking her eye off of them. Her lips started to move, but again Bob heard no words being spoken. The sister responded to whatever Quelaag was asking, looking indignant and surprised, but finally settling on a soft smile. Bob noticed Quelaag's gaze flickering over to Stacy for a second, but it was so fast he thought he'd imagined it.

Then Quelaag spoke again, for real this time. In a deep, scathing, demonic tone that echoed outwards into the cavern, she boomed out a single word.

'OUT.'

The trio shared a series of confused glances, then came to a quick understanding. Slowly and awkwardly, they shuffled out of the room; their every movement meticulously watched by Quelaag.

Just as they were about to leave, Bob saw Stacy pause for a moment and turn back to the Chaos Demon. He watched in amazement as she straightened up and gave Quelaag a proper bow. The demon didn't return it, nor did she show any sign of understanding, but Bob thought he saw the flaming hairs on Quelaag's back slacken slightly.

After they were finally clear of the room, walking quietly back through the chamber they'd originally fought Quelaag in, Stacy spoke:

'Well, that was weird.'


	7. Orange Guidance Soapstone

****_AN: Thanks for all the nice reviews, everyone! Love you all!_

**DARK(ISH) SOULS**

_Orange Guidance Soapstone_

It was done. The two Bells of Awakening had finally been rung. Whatever was supposed to happen wasn't immediately apparent, however. Solaire simply suggested they head back to Firelink and figure things out in stride. Of course, it was easy for a Warrior of Sunlight to journey forth without so much as a care in the world, but not having an immediately obvious goal troubled Bob deeply. That, and the thought that they had to fight their way back through Blight Town weighed his ego down further.

Something was happening to Bob too; he was becoming stronger. At first, the white wisps of souls that purged from defeated enemies seemingly had no effect on him. It wasn't until he was hitting the bonfires one after another, that he felt a surge of strength and stamina invigorating his body. He could swing his longsword about with one hand easily now, whereas before even a double-handed swing would throw him off balance. His armour too seemed to be lightening with each clattering step. Now he could jog at a decent clip for a respectable period of time, and STILL have enough energy to fight at the drop of a coin. Bob noticed Stacy was clearly improving too, but with her it was kind of hard to miss, especially as she swung her Zweihander about at the ugly fire-puking roach things and knocked them clear off the wooden scaffolding without breaking a sweat. At times, she wouldn't even use a sword, and just stomped them flat with her bare feet, laughing sadistically at their complete lack of poise.

Solaire pretty much confirmed their upgrade with cheery compliments left and right.

'Ah, Young Bob. The gift of experience is already gleaming from you. You grow brighter with each swing of your sword! And Fair Stacy, your merciless brutality against these defenceless creatures warms my very heart.'

It was a sincere gesture and one that made Bob swell with pride and caused quite a nervous stir in Stacy, who hid her face behind the hilt of her sword.

Bob had a lingering thought that maybe, if he kept fighting the way he was, he might just be as strong as Solaire one day. Of course, as soon as this thought came to him, it vanished in an instant when Solaire killed all three barbarians guarding the passage back the Valley of the Drakes with his shield. His SHIELD.

He'd just thrown it like a frisbee with such wind-shearing force that it decapitated the stinking masses of crap in one motion before boomeranging back to his hand in perfect sync.

Bob was impressed, sure, but seeing that man pull off incredible stunts was no longer that much of a shock to him.

'Captain Astora!' Stacy joked, giving Solaire a mock military salute.

Eventually, the stinking recesses of Blight Town were behind them. Bob took in a few deep breaths of fresh air as they emerged from the cave entrance to the Valley of the Drakes.

'Phwah!' He exhaled loudly with a curt Praise the Sun gesture. 'Thank GOD! That place was a laggy shit-hole.'

'Firelink isn't too far from here. Let's go back and see if anything's changed.' Stacy suggested, scanning the area for a bit before taking the lead; her huge sword propped on her shoulder lackadaisically.

Bob moved to follow, but halted mid-step when he noticed Solaire was staring off into the sky again. While it was technically day time, the sun itself wasn't visible in that canyon. The skies seemed a bit greyer since Bob had last seen it, so maybe that was bothering Solaire a little. Bob thought it best to reassure Solaire about that fact.

'Hey, Sol. You can probably get a proper look at the sun from Firelink. Let's catch up to Stace, eh?'

Solaire didn't respond. The angle that Bob had gave him a clear window through the slits in the man's helmet. His eyes seemed distant, mired in deep thought and reflection, but also holding within them a slight tinge of regretful longing. Bob was taken aback at seeing such an emotion from the normally jovial and carefree warrior.

Solaire suddenly turned to Bob, having seemingly noticed him for the first time in what had felt like ten whole minutes of silence. That warm glimmer in the Warrior of Sunlight's gaze returned in earnest, making Bob doubt for a moment if he had actually imagined what he'd seen.

'Oh! My apologies, Young Bob. I was simply lost in thought. Did you speak to me a moment ago?'

Bob didn't answer right away. The abruptness in Solaire's change of demeanour rattled him, but he quickly recovered and responded with all the cheer he could muster.

'I was just saying we should catch up with Stace. She seems pretty sure something's happened back in Firelink, like you suggested to us in the first place.'

'Ah, yes. Of course. Best we move in tandem, then. Our journey together will be all the more rewarding with jolly cooperation!'

Solaire jogged forward and quickly moved into step next to Stacy, who had just arrived at the gate leading to the elevator back to the New Londo Ruins. He said something to her out of Bob's earshot, to which Stacy responded with a laugh.

'Hey! Let's move!' Stacy yelled out to Bob, waving him over.

Bob hurried over, putting what he'd witnessed from his mind for the moment. There was no time to worry. He was through letting self-doubt cripple him. As long the three of them continued to move forward, everything would be okay.

'What the hell were you doing back there?' Stacy asked him grumpily in her typical hands-on-hips pose.

'Just having some cheesy thoughts.'

=][=

_Holy SHIT this guy reeks!_

Solaire had been right. There was something waiting for them in Firelink, but not what any of them probably expected…or wanted in the slightest.

As the three of them had rounded a corner to the semi-flooded area of Firelink, Bob and Stacy had shrieked as one at the monstrosity eyeing them blearily. It was a huge grey leathery snake with a set of teeth so rank with stench that Bob wished he was back in Blight Town. The thing, whatever it was, gave a start at their reaction, also yelping out as its thick neck recoiled back in surprise. During the exchange of screaming and gagging, Solaire just stood there calmly.

'What the…oh, man! …WHAT?' Bob sputtered and instinctively clenched the grip of his longsword from its sheath.

The snake guy seemed to sense the situation could go pear-shaped, and actually spoke.

'Please, be calm warriors! I do not wish to fight.'

As it spoke, a wave of stinking breath reached Bob and almost keeled him over. It smelled like rancid fish and recently puked egg salad, with a touch of bubbling drake shit.

'My goodness. A primordial serpent!' Solaire remarked cheerfully and casually approached it, completely unperturbed by its smell. 'It is a pleasure to meet an Original such as yourself. I am Solaire of Astora, and these are my companions; Young Bob of Kerns, and Fair Stacy.'

Serpent guy clicked his over-sized teeth and drew his creepy reptilian eyes over the trio warily.

'I see. I am Kingseeker Frampt, close friend of our great Lord Gwyn. I seek the Chosen Undead, in order to enlighten him about his true purpose.'

Frampt paused his little speech for a moment, as if hesitating to say anything further.

'The two Bells of Awakening have been rung, I presume? Was this you're doing?'

Bob thought about answering, but the thought of directly inhaling Frampt's breath made a slew of bile crawl up his throat. Thankfully, Solaire answered quickly and elegantly.

'Yes. We are partially responsible. The Bell in Blight Town was rung by us. This Chosen Undead you speak of rang the other in the Parish.'

Frampt suddenly got extremely excited, retching out a disgusting throaty gargle that made Stacy cry out pull her hood over her face.

'My, oh my…you have seen him then?! I must speak with him urgently! Where did you last see him?!'

Bob was immediately aggravated by the outburst, and he had to snap back.

'What's so important about the Chosen Undead? As far as I've seen, the guy is a kleptomaniac and a murderous psychopath, along with just being a total prick.'

Frampt snorted annoyingly, fixing his glassy orange eyes at Bob.

'I will not divulge anything to those who have no part in the prophecy.' He turned back to Solaire and replied more respectfully. 'I am sorry, Warrior of Astora, but I am not going to help any of you.'

Solaire took the blatant rejection in stride.

'I see…well then, Kingseeker Frampt, may you continue to be a hypocritical pile of manure til the end of days.'

Bob did a double take, thinking maybe he hadn't heard him properly. Stacy just laughed.

'Woah-ho-HO!' She exclaimed.

'I beg your pardon?!'

Solaire just motioned with a slight jerk of his helm to Bob and Stacy to get out of there.

'Gladly.' Bob graciously complied.

The three left Frampt and his stupid exposition, but before exiting the little area he resided in, Stacy turned back for a moment and smiled cheekily as she peered out from the column at the entrance.

'In other words, _go fuck yourself.'_

=][=

Frampt was furious. Never in his centuries of watching mankind had he ever met a group of people so blatantly disrespectful of the Old Ways. Part of him just wanted to go back into the depths of his abode and sleep for another decade. But his duty called. He had to find the true successor to Lord Gywn; the Chosen Undead, to link the Fires and continue the current age. He wished upon the Gods of Anor Londo that he never met those three again.

The one called Bob, utterly unremarkable and harbouring some secret vendetta against the Chosen Undead.

Solaire of Astora, a bipolar mystery. One moment, polite, the next insulting him without hesitation.

And that maiden, Stacy. What a horrible little wench with a disgusting vocabulary unbefitting of any creature on earth.

'How despicable. The Age of Fire can't return soon enough.' He grumbled to himself.

His frustrations ceased when he heard a clatter of armour coming near from somewhere in Firelink. A familiar aura engulfed the place. One Frampt was more than familiar with, that of the bloodline from centuries past, the Hero who originally brought forth the Age of Fire.

The Chosen Undead had arrived, now standing before Frampt; silent and ready to be commanded, ready to fulfil his destiny.

'Ah, Chosen Undead. You have finally arrived. I am Kingseeker Frampt, close friend of Lord Gwyn. I wish to elucidate your fate. Do you seek such enlightenment ?'

The Chosen Undead nodded, quietly urging Frampt to continue.

Before Frampt revealed the Chosen's destiny, a sudden idea illuminated in his mind. It wasn't part of his original plan, and he wasn't completely aware why he was thinking such things, but he spoke all the same.

'There is one thing you should know, afore I tell you your destiny. There is a trio of warriors travelling Lordran that put me at unease. The Old Voices tell me they are dangerous; that they seek to dismantle all that keeps this world intact. I suspect they may even be members of the Darkwraiths, the enemies of all of man.'

The Chosen Undead, listened raptly, now armed with dual Claymores, AND holding both swords with a pair of fully-upgraded pyro gloves. Tiny, neon orange cinders sparked from the gloves, illuminating Chosen's Elite Knight Armour in wicked gleaming light.

'They will try and take the Lord Vessel from you, to take your rightful place in history. You must know then, about what must be done.'

Frampt awaited a response. It troubled him slightly that the Chosen Undead did not speak.

Eventually, the Chosen just shrugged in response, as if to say _'No Problem.' _

When he sauntered off elsewhere with both large swords braced on his shoulders in a V-shape, Frampt clattered his teeth excitedly.

'Go forth, Chosen Undead…' He then paused, waiting until the Chosen's armour's rattles died out in the distance. 'Go forth and _fuck them up._'

=][=

Bob, Solaire and Stacy were beside themselves in uproarious laughter. The tight elevator corridor echoed out their glee to every corner of the Parish. A few Balder Knights chuckled at the sound, not wanting to be left out of the joke.

'Sol! The HELL was that! You tore that stupid carpet snake a new one!' Stacy exclaimed with tears of hilarity welling up.

Bob had laughed himself to the limit. As funny as that display was to him, he had to ask Solaire just what it was all about.

'That was something else. But what brought that on? That was totally out of left field.'

Solaire sighed deeply after a riotous belly laugh, and caught his breath before answering.

'I can judge one's merit and sense of justice with but a few words.' He explained with a knowledgeable twinkle in his eye. 'I knew the moment that creature spoke that it harboured a most unsound air of deceit and lies. Whatever his agenda might have been, we'll all be the better for having no part in it.'

'Wow. You're so perceptive.' Stacy smiled, then pointed at herself. 'What did you think of us when you first met us?'

Bob awaited the response too, curious as to what Solaire's first impression had been.

'Hahaha! That is a secret, Fair Stacy. Perhaps one day I'll divulge, but for now, such things are best left unsaid.'

Bob should've expected such a vague answer. Then again, Stacy was being a little too intrusive in his opinion. The Parish elevator creaked open as it reached the top, Solaire stepped off first and turned back to them with a beaming expression.

'Let us go, my friends. I have an idea of where we should head next.'

=][=

'Hey, it's Zeus!' Bob remarked at the huge, grizzled old man clanging away with his smithing hammer. After tagging the bonfire and resting up for a little while, Solaire directed them towards a long, narrow path leading to an ominous fortress. It seemed like the right way to go, and Bob wasn't going to argue. With his and Stacy's newfound strength and Solaire by their side, whatever lay in wait there didn't stand a chance. But before heading off, Bob curiously investigated the endless hammerfalls that made relaxing at the bonfire an exercise in annoyance.

'Well, I'll be. Another visitor.' The old guy said gruffly, but with an earnest kindness that belied his fierce appearance. 'I'm afraid I don't know any "Zeus", my name is Andre of Astora. I'm a blacksmith.'

_Who would've guessed, _Bob thought sarcastically, keeping the comment to himself naturally.

'Nice to meet you, Andre. I'm Bob. There's two others nearby. I'll call them over—'

'ANNNNNNNDRE!'

Solaire had violently emerged from the other end of the room, already barrelling through the air towards Andre. Bob was too close to his flight path and flailed out of the way, stunned and speechless.

Andre reacted in an instant; flipping his smithing desk over and sending all manner of tools and weapons flying every which way in a deafening cacophony of metals.

'SOLLLLLLAIRE!' Andre yelled out in reply, launching himself into the air; missiling right towards the man who's name he'd just bellowed out at the top of his lungs.

Stacy had appeared at the top of the staircase in the room just in time to mouth: 'THE F—'

Then the two men collided into one another, shaking the very concrete at Bob's feet at the impact.

It took a few seconds for Bob to realize what had just happened. He still stood there, stunned, watching Solaire and Andre share the manliest hand-shake he had ever witnessed.

'My old friend! What a glorious fortune to see you again!' Andre roared, grinning ear to ear and clasping Solaire's hand with such force that Andre's arm muscles bulged incredibly.

Solaire returned the handshake with gusto, seemingly matching the much larger man's strength.

'Andre! Such a dazzling treat to meet you once more!'

The two broke their handshake and erupted into a hearty laugh that threatened to crumble the foundations of the room atop their heads.

After a few more heartfelt words between the two men, Andre and Solaire settled down a fraction to the point where Bob and Stacy felt safe enough to approach them.

'Sooo, you guys know each other, huh?' Stacy asked warily, keeping her distance.

'Yes. Andre is a dear friend of mine I met in Astora. Most of my battle techniques were gleaned from his marvellous example.' Solaire exclaimed with pride.

'It's good to see you in such high spirits, and with trusted companions no less. ' Andre commented cheerily. 'I was worried when I heard you left Astora on pilgrimage, just as this Age of Fire nonsense swept up Lordran. But all the same, you've been taking good care of yourself. And who is this pretty lass tagging along with you?'

Stacy frowned at the innocent remark. Bob knew her bitter resentment and bipolar nature made it incredibly flaky for strangers to compliment her looks.

'Ah, where is my cordiality? This is Fair Stacy. She may have the visage of a beautiful, innocent maiden, but her merciless combat prowess is astounding. And to my recollection, she once asked me to become her husband.'

Stacy was flush red in a heartbeat. Andre raised any eyebrow at her and pried further.

'Oh my, and what say you of that, Solaire?'

Stacy's face lit up like a Great Chaos Fireball. Bob wanted to ease her embarrassment by doing something stupid but he honestly wanted to hear Solaire's answer.

'Well—'

'AIIIEEEE!' Stacy shrieked shrilly as she pulled her cowl over her face and dashed upstairs as fast as her equip burden allowed.

'Stace!' Bob called out, chasing after her. He'd just reached the top of the stairs when he spotted a flash of white zipping by; most likely heading towards the Fortress.

'Where is she going? It's dangerous by herself!' Solaire yelled, appearing suddenly at Bob's side. With a wordless nod of understanding, they broke into a run in unison; already sprinting across the bridge-way to the Fortress just as the white speck that was Stacy already recklessly bolted into its dark, ominous maw.


	8. Greatsword

_AN: Happy New Year everybody! Wow, was I surprised when I checked up on this fic to see all the nice reviews people have left me. You guys are so great. And on another note: Dark Souls 2! Can't wait! If you're as impatient as me, then maybe this lil fic will kill some time. Enjoy everybody!_

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

_Greatsword_

Bob was back to square one. Gone was that overwhelming sense of confidence and vigour that had fuelled him in Lordran's other areas. That place, Sen's Fortress, Solaire had called it, cruelly reminded him that he was out of his element, that the Knight Armour he bore was a farce, and his blunting longsword a pointed joke. He'd realized all this as soon as he'd gone chasing after Stacy once the conversation between Solaire and Andre had taken a turn that'd embarrassed her beyond her threshold.

The first enemy he came across was a serpentine warrior that walked him down effortlessly. It brandished a blood-rusted cleaver of a greatsword with the same finesse that Bob managed with his own comparatively puny weapon. It wasn't stupid either, blocking his own swipes and jabs with a large round metallic shield. Solaire couldn't help him, as another of the reptilian bastards flanked the one Bob was already dealing with. Bob couldn't spare a glance at his companion and how he was faring, he couldn't let down his concentration for a moment.

With a venomous hiss, the man-serpent lunged at Bob again, clanging his huge sword over Bob's shield once more, causing him to curse darkly. Each blocked hit had too much force behind it that Bob just didn't have the strength to counterattack. He was constantly backpedalling now to try and catch his breath, only for the monster to leap an ungodly distance and crash his sword into the ground just as Bob wildly rolled out of the way.

_Dammit, Stace! The hell were you thinking running in here! _

Bob thought he was starting to memorize the man-serpents patterns, only for the scaled bastard to switch it up on him when he least expected it; by way of snapping it's giraffic out and gnashing its' teeth so close to Bob's face that he felt its pearly fangs graze his eyelashes.

The attack had him so stunned that he toppled back, scrambling to sit up with his shield still miraculously in hand just as the man-serpent yet again pounced on him mercilessly.

Only this time, it stopped. And spasmed. One. Two. Three times in total, letting out pained hisses each time before collapsing in front of him, dead, with the culprit being three pointed bolts lodged several inches into its back.

Bob initially thought Solaire had helped him, but wrote that off when he saw the aforementioned man still fighting off the man-serpent atop the stairs that led further into Sen's Fortress.

Rather than sit there and wonder what had happened, Bob sprang into action to help his friend, already cutting at the surprised beasts' unguarded flank from behind.

It slashed wildly to keep Bob at bay but that was all the opening Solaire needed as he lunged forward, parried its round shield away with his sword and _slamming_ the rim of his shield into its snake head with enough force to clean it of its feet and drive it into the wall, bursting its cranium like a jar of Estus.

Solaire didn't pause for comment, and Bob didn't think of wasting time with his own. They moved as one then, a terribly mismatched singular unit, but united with the same goal in mind. Their pace was quick, but cautious, scanning every inch of the rooms they entered for signs of Stacy. More man-serpents were in their way, but never more than one at a time so they were dispatched easily. Bob was a little relieved to see some of them had wounds before he engaged them, broad cuts against their flesh and shields, from a two-hander he gathered.

The two men passed some hilariously slow guillotines and pendulums as well; taking the narrow paths across warily all the same. At one point, another serpent monster started attacking from a beam a floor above, throwing bolts of lightning down at them as they crossed another tiny bridge.

Since Solaire had the lead, he blocked the projectile easily, and before the beast even cocked another shot, the Warrior of Sunlight hurled his own bolt of lightning at the monster. The gleaming golden spear crossed the distance in less than a blink, lighting up the dank fortress with its brilliance for that short moment, and cleaved into the monsters chest without defiance, effectively knocking it off its smug perch and into the inky depths.

Their pace didn't slow a fraction, save for a few awkward seconds when they passed a man-serpent just lackadaisically resting against a wall with its arms crossed. It didn't attack, just eyed them curiously with a flick of its forked tongue.

'I guess even monsters get days off.'

After ascending the fortress to its topmost heights, Solaire and Bob finally happened upon Stacy, sitting dismally on a staircase as the sunlight poured in from the doorway above; her white robe reflecting the light so brightly that Bob winced away until his vision could adjust.

She was gasping for breath, holding her Zweihander loosely as its long shining blade rested at her feet. Stacy looked up when they'd arrived and regarded at the two men with an indignant and regretful expression.

'Stace. I don't know where to start on how unbelievably stupid that was.' Bob chewed her out, pushing his thoughts of concern and worry aside for that moment. 'You have seriously got to get your emotions in check. Dare I say it, you almost acted like a spoiled little girl back there.'

Her watering apologetic gaze immediately sharpened to steel. Bob had to fight off a smirk from crawling over his face. Solaire, ever majestically in the loop, picked up on what Bob was doing and pitched in.

'I certainly would not marry a woman who ever questions and pities herself like the one before me.' Solaire started with a stern commanding tone. 'However, the one who laughs in the face of death, and catapults men such as I through the air without hesitation, _that _is the one I would highly consider.'

Solaire reached his hand out to her. She took it and was hefted to her feet. Bob noted the way Solaire had done it. It hadn't been the typical "Help princess to her feet" motion, but a more straightforward and respectful gesture, like the one used on a person the other considers their equal.

'So then, no apologies, doubts or empty words, Fair Stacy.' Solaire finished with that impossibly cheeky glint in his eye.

Stacy smiled. Not a sweet, happy smile, but a wide, almost frenzied grin that bared her teeth.

'Right. Fuck this place.'

She twirled about and led the way, literally shining with newfound confidence. Just as she reached the doorway that led to the roof, an instantaneous wall of fire blasted her off her feet.

Bob and Solaire reacted and caught her airborne form as one, grunting at the surprising shunt of weight that almost careened them down the flight of stairs.

Stacy was allright, albeit surprised and sporting a thin mask of soot on her face.

'What the hell was that?' Bob sputtered as he propped Stacy on her feet. Solaire inched towards the passageway that had seemingly exploded before, cautious and watchful. He must have noticed something when he quickly raised his shield as another blast of flame roared out.

'My oh my. This is familiar.' Solaire chuckled, moving back to his companions. 'Someone or something is throwing explosives in our path. Perhaps another joyous sprint is in order.'

Bob groaned. Sure he was a lot stronger than before, but running was still something he wasn't a fan of. That incident before with the Drake had been a reckless coin toss. He still felt that phantom singe in his hair, having grown a habit of checking whether it had caught on fire when he wasn't looking.

'Same deal as before, Sol? Okay. I believe in you.' Stacy seemingly had no such reservations. Then again, Bob's trust in Solaire was set in stone. It was his own bravery that he doubted.

'No rest for Warriors of Sunlight!' Solaire announced, bracing himself for the run. 'On my mark, my dear friends!'

Another blast rang out at the top of the stairs, and Solaire shot off the mark before the flames had even withered out.

That familiar sensation of running for one's life overtook Bob again. But it was different that time; strengthened by camaraderie, newfound strength and maybe even a speck of insanity. Howling winds rang in his ears, muffling the symphony of rattling from his armour.

Solaire surged forward, analysing the path in mere moments, guiding the two behind him across charred stone and step. Bob spared a glance upward as the sun just crested the high walls above them, blinding him momentarily, then felt his stomach contents churn when a mysterious sphere monstrously ballooned into his vision; blocking the dazzling rays as it zeroed right towards his head.

But it missed. Barely. Having scraped across the tip of his helmet and shattering a distance behind him, immediately deafening him with an obnoxious explosion louder than anything else he'd heard up to that point. For a terrifying instant he felt a searing heat begin to engulf him, and grit his teeth when plumes of wicked flames lashed the corners of his helmet visor. He saw Solaire and Stacy at arm's length ahead of him, sprinting with abandon as he was.

The heat fell away, the flames vanished from his view. And he let a heaving breath of relief escape his parched lips.

Then he fell.

Lordran became a maelstrom of green, grey and blue as he tumbled end of over end, powering forward with the momentum of his sprint. He reached out with his hands to steady himself, and yelled out in a panic when he gripped nothing but air. Wherever he was, there were falls at both his sides, and no walls to stop him.

Finally his tumble broke and he blinked blearily at the clouded sky above, mind screaming at him in various signals of pain and panic.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap_

Bob sat up and the first thing to truly dance into his vision was a black giant draped in rusted chains standing imperiously on the structure above him; another of those huge explosive spheres hoisted in its hands.

Before Bob could even un-jumble the mess of mental screaming in his head, the giant was already curling its massive body back to throw the bronze sphere of death right down at him.

Bob knew there was no time to move out of the way. He'd barely escaped the blast running at top speed. What chance did he have on his back? It was over. At least he'd die in a cool explosion.

A figure. Seemingly falling from the sky itself. Too big to be Solaire. A flying fortress of Black Armour missiling down towards the giant.

Tales and stories from Bob's past rushed into his psyche, crashing into his panicked survival instinct and utterly numbing him for a moment. Only one thing managed to push past his twirling psyche; the urge to shout a name that had held him in awe in his younger days.

'…TARKUUUUS!'

As he bellowed out the name, the Black Iron Warrior speared his greatsword into the explosive sphere, detonating it immediately . The giant roared in shock and confusion as molten flames from the bomb splashed out all over its body. But that happened to be the least of its worries, as Tarkus himself burst forth from the fanning explosion, his armour cutting a wreath through the flames as if totally immune, and plunged his giant sword into the burning giants' head.

The strike didn't just connect, it _crushed _the giant into the ground with an immense force that tore the fabric of the air around the tower. Such was the power that shockwaved out that it set off the small mountain of spare bombs nearby which instantly obliterated the tower the giant had stood upon, sending a dazzling shower of flaming bricks and concrete out in a wide cloud of destruction.

In the few moments that had occurred, Solaire and Stacy had rushed to Bob's side previously, only to stare up in abject silence at the same site Bob had taken in.

Then, like a passage right out of the stories in Bob's past, Black Iron Tarkus emerged from the towering pillar of flame above them, impregnable armour basked in the flickering fire and with sword resting on his shoulder.

'Fuck…is that…?!' Stacy breathed, her own deep blue eyes shimmering in recognition.

'A warrior, descending from the Sun itself to lend us aid…how marvellous.' Solaire stated with clear astonishment and respect.

'That…' Bob smirked to himself, still lying on his back. '…is motherfucking Black Iron Tarkus.'

A few times in his life, Bob asked himself how he'd react to meeting a celebrity. The naïve part of him thought he'd be able to play it cool and casual, treating such an individual with aloof conversation. Real life was a whole different sword game.

He couldn't say anything. Not one thing. And neither could Stacy as Iron Tarkus silently gauged them from within the fog gate room.

'Black Iron Tarkus, I did not recognize you at first sight.' Solaire remarked him evenly. 'Tales of your heroic deeds are spread far and wide. The most recent being the gripping account of that Golem you tangled with on your lonesome some time ago. It is good to see you lead such credence to these tales with that mighty display earlier.

Tarkus didn't speak, or react at all to anything Solaire said. A silent goliath who teemed the very air with power with his presence alone.

Eventually, Stacy broke free of her star struck trance and dared to speak.

'Uhm, Mr Tarkus? N-nice to meet you. So…what're you doing in this place?'

Bob thought to snap at Stacy for such a blunt question, but was silenced before he could speak when Tarkus actually responded. Not with words, but a slight tilt of his barrelled helm, motioning towards the fog gate.

'You're going to help us?' Solaire pressed, having no such inhibitions in his manner of speech.

Tarkus replied by lifting his greatsword a bit from his shoulder and clanking it twice against his armour.

'Fuck yes.' Bob blurted without thinking.

'What luck is this, huh?' Stacy grinned devilishly. 'Let's stomp whatever's behind the fog right now!'

She brashly moved forward and was already phasing through the murky fog, quickly followed by the three warriors close behind. After passing through, Bob took in the narrow bridgeway ahead, and the Iron Golem already powering towards them from the far end.

He steeled his will as best as he could despite the quakes from the Golems' thunderous footfalls. When Tarkus and Solaire took the lead, his own bravery numbed the shaking in his limbs. Suddenly, the Golem didn't seem big at all even as it smashed its huge axe into the ground right in front of him as Tarkus and Solaire rolled left and right to dodge.

The two warriors charged forward fearlessly as the Golem was more than happy to meet them at the centre of the precarious structure.

Tarkus and Solaire working in tandem was a brilliant sight to behold. The Golem would swing wild with its axe, sending shockwaves ripping from its blade but Solaire dodged them with ease; rolling to and fro with grace and precision. Tarkus didn't even bother to dodge as his giant shield absorbed the onrush of attacks and barely buckled him with each impact.

Bob wanted to help them but the pace of the battle wasn't something he could keep up with at all. He'd tried to stab the Golem in the ankle when it was preoccupied but it moved much quicker than he had anticipated; suddenly swiping him off his feet and held fast in its stumpy iron hand.

'A-AH!' Bob yelled when the already brutal grip around his body tightened suddenly. For a terrifying instant he felt every organ in his body swell painfully as his armour begun to collapse in on itself around his helpless form. But the agony was gone was fast as it had come when the Golem shunted and let out a dull mechanical groan, releasing Bob from its grip in the process.

Bob somehow managed to land on his feet and staggered backwards. Solaire and Tarkus were still tussling with it, utterly absorbed in the fight. Bob thought twice about attacking again and took another step back…and felt nothing beneath his back foot.

For whatever reason Bob felt a stupid smirk crawl onto his face as he fell backward, his one dulling thought:

'_Fucking pits, man.' _

His fall was cut short abruptly when Stacy appeared and violently yanked him back onto the platform before he freefell.

'Stupid!' She spat with a pained expression between relief and fury.

Bob just nodded dumbly, feeling his senses return one after another. Just in time to shove Stacy out of the way of a stray shockwave that cut a path between them.

The two decided to back off for a bit. Fighting a Golem on such a small platform with four people was just asking for disaster. After all, they agreed it was best to give Solaire and Tarkus the room to fight the damn thing.

As soon as they created some space, Bob and Stacy witnessed a whole lotta magic.

Solaire charged a Great Lightning Spear in his hand and hurled it at the Golems' head at close range, immediately spearing it through its clunky helmet. The attack clearly stunned the giant as it staggered on its feet clumsily, dropping its axe right after. Solaire followed up the perfect strike by rushing forward and stabbing the Golem in the groin.

'Urk.' Bob winced on reflex.

As the beast toppled to its knees, clasping its iron jewels on the way down, Tarkus was there to meet it almost face to face.

He slung his shield onto his back and two-handed his greatsword, then gripped the very tip of his huge weapons' handle and reared the blade back high above his shoulder.

The Golem could only sit there in pained disbelief for the half-second it took for Tarkus to swing his sword in a brutal arc that connected flush into its chest; caving it inward with metal-shrieking carnage. There was a brief pause after the attack connected, as if Tarkus' sword would just stay embedded in the creature, but then glorious momentum took hold.

Tarkus' sword completed its arc and rended right through the Golem and threw the entire mass of iron high into the sky at a speed that rewrote the laws of physics. It flew higher and higher before cresting over a mountain in the distance and colliding into the ground with a distant and resounding thud that shook Bob to his very bones.

Bob and Stacy just burst into an onrush of cheers and jubilation. They held nothing back with their ceaseless compliments and awestruck praises. Solaire took it like he always did, brushing it off like it was nothing. Tarkus didn't display anything save for that curt nod once they'd managed to shut their traps.

'Phew.' Bob sighed, feeling the stinging adrenaline in his veins fizzle out with the accompanied cooling breeze so prevalent at that height. As he admired the view from up there, it slowly dawned on him that the narrow bridge appeared to be a dead end. What was once a gigantic gateway at the opposite end they had entered from was now a wall of broken stone and rubble.

How could that be it? The Golem had obviously been guarding something. A gatekeeper to whatever lay beyond Sen's Fortress no doubt. He pondered this for a bit as Stacy and Solaire chatted exuberantly to one another, their voices distant and muddled.

As if magically derailing his train of thought, Stacy suddenly piped up when she pointed out something on the ground behind them.

'Oooh, look at this thing. A Ring of Light?' She commented curiously.

Bob didn't even have a chance to tell her off for picking up random things off the ground. As soon as her white-gloved hands touched the shining ring, Bob suddenly found himself yanked into the sky roughly by his armpits.

It was so sudden. Abrupt, motion-sickness induced flight. When Bob managed to dart his eyes upwards through the shock, he witnessed raw-pink flesh, exposed brain matter, bony wings and a set of teeth gnashed together in a perpetual snarl.

'The FUCK?!' Bob screamed and made the idiotic decision to struggle against the tight uncomfortable grip of the winged abomination.

It shrieked in protest as Bob flailed around like a moron and even slapped the top of his head in indignation. It hadn't been meant as an attack, more as a warning. Even through the utter randomness of what was happening, Bob quickly understood. He had to ride it out, and see where the monster would take him. On cue, he spotted Stacy and Solaire nearby, also being carried roughly by the beasts. At least, Stacy was. Whilst she screamed and kicked her legs about, Solaire had actually managed to mount the thing; standing on its back with perfect balance with his arms crossed, gazing aloft without a care in the world.

Only Tarkus was missing, and through sheer luck Bob was able to spot him far down below. He was looking up at them, standing commandingly like the silent warrior that he was in the spot the Golem had once stood.

Bob was disappointed that Tarkus wasn't going with them, and through his bouts of nausea, hoped he would see him again soon.

Sen's Fortress was shrinking, smaller and smaller, gradually being swallowed by the thick forests and misty mountains of Lordran.

Higher they flew, eventually reaching over the crescending mountainside. Bob was blinded momentarily by golden light, but once his vision had cleared he was at a total loss for words. The impossibility of what he was seeing was too much. Images from various texts and scrolls flooded his mind as his recoiling psyche repeated the name of what he was witnessing over and over before his consciousness was blotted out from motion-sickness and disbelief.

It was the Lost City of Anor Londo.

…And then he finally puked.

=][=

After the battle with the Golem, Tarkus remained there on the bridge for a little while. His job was done, he had helped the three defeat the Golem, as he had done so countless times in that warped reality. It didn't bother him that he'd be forced to repeat the fight until the Fires were finally linked, it was his purpose after all.

Soon, he would vanish from that reality and appear as a phantom in a new one, ready to slay the Golem with that same chilling efficiency that repetition had hammered into his soul.

…But then he immediately felt something was wrong when that white sheen common among phantoms wrapped around his form. What troubled him was that he was still in the same dimension, the Golem still defeated and his sole role in that world unclear for the first time in what felt like hundreds of years.

Someone was approaching from the entrance. No, _two_.

A warrior donned in the Elite Knight set, wielding flaming claymores in each hand. The other, Tarkus recognized as the treacherous Lautrec of Carim, also a white phantom as he was.

It was too late to question what was happening, he could already feel his free will slipping away as the warrior came closer, such was the way of phantoms in that world.

Tarkus only felt a slight drop of pity for whatever that warrior would have him tear apart.


	9. Souvenir of Reprisal

_Queens Notice Board: I'm always surprised about all the positive feedback I get for this story. It always warms my heart. I really enjoy writing this silly little piece. And as always, hope it at least puts a smile on your face. Enjoy!_

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

_Souvenir of Reprisal_

Bob struggled to wonder how a city like Anor Londo could carry the moniker "Lost". All anyone had to do was peer over the mountain close to Sen's and it'd be impossible to miss. He supposed it made all the more mysterious and awe inspiring for it to be called the Lost City. It definitely took his breath away, so much so that ten whole minutes was wasted with him and Stacy just staring out at the orange stone metropolis basked in the perpetual setting afteroon sunlight.

'Woah. Stace can you believe this…?'

'This is…how can this place be real?' She stammered, a mix of fear and excitement in her soft features.

Somewhat surprisingly, Solaire hardly shared their enthusiasm. He'd taken one quick glance at the mythical city and quickly shrugged it off. It seemed to Bob like the attitude a resident might have towards the slack-jawed tourists in himself and Stacy.

Stacy, ever his mirror, asked Solaire what his deal was. 'Sol? Are you seeing this place? Why d'you look so…dim?'

Bob hoped that awful pun had been an accident. Solaire blinked quizically at the question, taken off-guard for a rare moment. His reply was full of uncertainty and doubt, two traits that sounded completely alien coming from the man known as the Warrior of Sunlight.

'I'm not too certain of that, Fair Stacy.' He murmured, sparing another glance over the stone railings and across the city proper. 'For a reason I cannot understand, my heart is growing heavy with melancholy and nostalgia.'

Stacy tilted her head. 'Huh? You saying you've been to this place before?'

Solaire fixed her with a bemused stare.

'Perhaps, Stacy.' He replied, sullen and downcast. 'Perhaps I've forgotten something…'

Bob was no master of social etiquette, but even he knew when to temporarily let go of things. In an attempt to change the mood, he ushered his friends onward with every bit of shaky bravado he could manage.

'Let's go check this place out! Who knows what kind of treasure we'll find?'

He channeled Solaire with his body language and felt a bit of geniune contentment when he saw them both nod in approval and move in step with him. Whatever was troubling Solaire was doing nobody any favours. And all besides, that clearly wasn't the time or place to pry.

Anor Londo turned out to be a pretty easy place to navigate at first. After all their adventuring in dank, dark, and putrid smelling areas, it was a refreshing pace to travel through a region that was well-lit and spacey.

Their first real hurdle came in the form of the hulking armored giants standing guard in several places as they travelled. Bob had initially thought the things were statues, but Solaire cautiously warned him to be more attentive of their movements. The things were definitely shifting very slightly as they posed.

Though the giants weren't attacking outright, Bob felt it was no time to push their luck and get any closer than they needed to. Especially in regards to the silent pair at the end of a spacious room guarding some treasure chests.

Bob gulped as they passed another ominously silent giant standing precariously beside a large doorway. They were pretty close, but thankfully not close enough for it to decide to attack. It did however trace their movements with its head. The fact that it didn't have a visible face was unnerving, as was the size of its peerlesly decorated halberd at its side. There was no way his already dented knight shield would be able to block that, Bob grumbled to himself.

Things were going quite well when they managed to find their first bonfire down a small corridor's flight of steps. Bob immediately noticed the bronze-armored warrior leaning against the far wall when they entered the bonfire room. The person hardly reacted to their prescence save for a short glance when they initially entered. Stacy, ever the ambassador, was already yapping away at the strange figure.

'That armor set is badass! Where'd you buy that?'

The warrior actually chuckled at that. A soft and feminine tone revebrated throughout the small room.

'Stace! Relax will you.' Bob hissed at her and tried to make a less rude impression. 'Ah, sorry about that ma'am. I hope we're not disturbing you. We didn't know there was someone at this bonfire already.'

The warrior shook her head calmly. 'No apologies are necessary. The girl seems young and curious. And no, you have not disturbed me. I am the Keeper of this flame, after all. I am bound to tend the fire here for weary travellers, providing whatever small solace I can in this Lost City.'

'Oh, okay.' Stacy replied simply. 'So…where did you buy that armor?'

Another small laugh. 'I am afraid my raiment was a gift from my master. I highly doubt it can be purchased anywhere.'

'Ah, that's too bad.' Stacy huffed and sat down on the floor, leaning against the same wall with her legs splayed out lazily. 'My name's Stacy, by the way. Nice to meet you.'

Stacy smiled up at the woman cheerfully, who regarded her with a slight tip of her helmet. Bob was a little confused at first as to why Stacy was so insistent to talk to the stranger. He realized it was probably relaxing for her to speak to someone of her own gender.

'You truly are a curious child, aren't you? I am sorry, but I have reason enough to keep to myself. My role in this world doesn't lend itself to meeting others.'

Stacy just raised an eyebrow at the cold response, but remained otherwise undaunted in her efforts to converse with the other woman.

'Aww, c'mon. Not even your name?' Stacy did that trademark cheeky grin of hers.

'Arcadia.'

The room fell into complete silence, save for the dull hum of the bonfire. It hadn't been the woman who had spoke, but Solaire. Having been standing quietly to one side for a while, his sudden entry to the conversation surprised everyone, especially, it seemed, the strange woman herself.

She moved off the wall and uncrossed her arms, staring at Solaire. Her stance was stiff, limbs tensed and ready, on the very edge of combat.

'Who are you?' She demanded sharply, fingers at twitch length from the handle of her rapier and dagger.

Solaire stood his ground, unperturbed, but standing in a way that told he had no will to fight the woman.

'I am Solaire of Astora.' He answered simply. Did he know her? Why was she so threatened that Solaire had known her name? Bob wanted to ask him what was going on, but the tense air didn't subside a fraction, and his queries died in his throat.

'Solaire? I've never heard of you. Now tell me, how do you know my name?'

The situation was a thread away from getting violent. Stacy was whipping her gaze back and forth from Solaire and the woman known as Arcadia, afraid and apologetic.

Solaire didn't answer right away. He even looked to Bob for something, expecting some kind of answer from him. He had no clue what Solaire expected of him, but in the end he replied to the woman curtly.

'I do not know. I saw you. I saw this place. Something is amiss in my heart and soul.'

What was he talking about? More déjà vu or something?

After a stifling minute of silence, the woman relaxed a little and resumed her position on the wall, but her scrutinizing glare remained fixed on the Warrior of Sunlight.

'You speak the truth.' She said finally. '…I am sorry my reaction was so…forward. But I had reason to think of you as a threat.'

The tense atmosphere diminished enough for Stacy to dare a meek query. Bob wasn't entirely concerned what Arcadia's business was, but he did relish the spare time to rest in the eerie glow of the bonfire.

'M-ms Arcadia—is it okay to call you that?'

The armored woman merely shrugged. 'I suppose there's no harm in doing so.'

'Ok, is this really Anor Londo? I thought this place was a myth.'

Bob was curious of that too, and listened in on the conversation as he sat near the bonfire with Solaire joining him; taking a knee quietly.

'Do you not believe your eyes? This is indeed Anor Londo. The City of the Gods and former residence of the Lord of Sunlight, Gwyn.'

'Wow. So then, what's your place here? You mentioned you're a Firekeeper, but do you work for anyone?'

Arcadia didn't answer, and Bob had to interject.

'Stace, it's really none of our business, and she clearly has her reasons to keep it to herself. Leave her alone will you?'

'I concur.' Solaire agreed, that familiar cheerful pep in his voice back in full force. 'Fair Stacy, I think it best to proceed onward and leave the Lady to her duties.'

Bob stood up from the bonfire at those words; all his nagging injuries and general exhaustion having vanished under the bonfires afterglow.

'Sol's right. Let's go Stace.'

Stacy agreed, following Solaire as he lifted himself off the marble floor and led the way to the exit of the cramped sanctuary. Bob and Solaire nodded politely at Arcadia as they left, but Stacy took it a little further and hugged the bemused woman quickly before waving goodbye.

'See you around!'

'…Farewell.'

=][=

Anor Londo proved to be more than a showcase for the Giants with a hilariously short aggro range. Several more enemy types jumped into the fray as the trio journeyed forward. First, there was a lone gargoyle clambering about on one of the long bridgeways, the same type that they'd previously run into atop the Parish. With their increased stats and experience, they utterly destroyed the creature with an onrush of attacks that stunlocked the helpless beast into oblivion. To finish it, Solaire had ripped off it's tail axe and cleaved its head in two with a single flawless motion.

Of a slightly greater threat were the strange white-clothed ninja's arrayed around a giant cathedral area. They popped out of sneaky angles and put up a good fight. Unfortunately for them, they forgot the golden rule that dual-wielding weapons was incredibly stupid. All Bob had to do was block their fancy combination attacks and counter easily, cutting down one after the other as his cohorts did the same. Eventually the large area was cleared, leaving them to peruse the collossal and bland painting on the far wall.

Bob approached it carefully and stroked his hand over the canvas.

'Nothing here. Let's go back to that revolving bridge again.' Bob suggested, already walking back the way they came. Solaire followed him but Stacy stood her ground, gazing up at the painting with a puzzled expression.

'Fair Stacy. We should continue onward. There doesn't seem to be anything here.'

Stacy didn't hear him. In fact, she looked completely spaced out as she craned her neck upward at the painting, walking towards it with slow unnatural steps.

'Stace? What're you doing?' Bob asked her curiously.

She didn't answer him either. Just as Bob was about to repeat his concern, Stacy reached towards the painting…and was instantly sucked into it. Stacy shrieked in shoc k as she was cleaned off her feet and headfirst into the piece of art.

'HOLY F—!'

'My word!'

Bob and Solaire acted quickly and each grabbed hold of one of her feet and pulled frantically as some invisible force tried to shuck her inside the canvas with incredible force.

Despite having her entire torso phased through it, they could still hear her panicked shouts.

'AIEE! Pull me out! Pull me out! D-don't look up my robe!'

'Don't-!' Bob grunted. '—flatter yourself!'

'Forgive my wandering gaze, Fair Stacy!'

The force dead-set on warping Stacy inside suddenly grew in power explosively. The force was so abrupt that both Solaire and Bob went airborne with her, still holding her flailing ankles.

Reality warped before their very eyes as they tumbled through a maelstrom of nothingness. First there was blackness, then tiny flecks of white whipped by on every side until there was a literal blizzard of the stuff twisitng around them. Harsh, freezing cold numbed Bob's body, all the more unpleasant considering Anor Londo's decent spring temperature, that and he didn't know which way was up.

Then as quickly as it had come, it was over. Bob expected to land on his face again, but felt serious vertigo when he realized he was inexplicably standing on his own two shaky feet , on a rickety bridge in the middle of an expansive snowy wasteland. He couldn't really move for a while, as he was still in mild shock. With a trembling hand gripping the ropey handrails, he looked at his two companions. Stacy was much the same as he was, scared out of her mind with that glazed, petrified look in her eye.

'What…' She mumbled to no one in particular.

Solaire still somehow kept his composure, only looking slightly perplexed at the sudden shift in their surroundings.

'Well, that was odd.' He mused and glanced backwards across the narrow wooden bridge. 'Hm, it seems we cannot simply go back the way we came. The bridge is badly damaged.'

Stacy grunted hoarsely and slapped the sides of her face a few times. 'Urgh. What the hell. Just what. The HELL.'

'Seriously. That was the last thing I thought would happen.' Bob added, feeling his equilibrium return gradually. 'Stace. What happened to you back there?!'

Bob didn't mean to come off so brash, but Stacy didn't seem to notice or care.

'I know it sounds like some retarded plot device out of some crappy fantasy story…but the painting was literally calling out to me. I swear, I heard it say "Hey, you've got something I want. Get over here." Bloody hell.'

'Nice. Real nice.' Bob groaned in annoyance. 'Way to get us off track.'

'Off track?' Stacy snapped back with a darkened scowl. 'We don't even know why we came to Anor Londo in the first place. How can we be off track?'

Solaire interrupted their little squabble by stepping between them.

'My friends. Nothing is to be gained by pointless bickering.' Solaire lectured seriously. 'Regardless of the circumstances, we must press onward. There is sure to be a way out of this place.'

Bod and Stacy shared a sheepish look. There was no arguing with the man, after all they hadn't gotten that far by complaining every step of the way.

'Right, Sol. I'm sorry.' Stacy apologized.

'Yeah. That's why you're the boss.'

With that out of the way, they braved the frozen wasteland slowly and carefully. The small hills of snow and decaying trees opened up to a strange fort-like area inhabited by a few hollow zombies. They were easily dealt with when not using their stupidly annoying running attack. Of the zombies, some were sporting giant pulsating sacks of flesh where their torsos would be. They were a little harder to deal with, as cutting the aforementioned fashion statement would spew a cloud of toxin gas in their general direction.

Luckily, they'd kept their distance when finding out this fact, and Solaire helpfully suggested that they beat the corrupted hollows to death with their bare hands to prevent the gas from pouring out.

Solaire and Stacy excelled at his, naturally. The former utilizing his Astoran wrestling and the latter brawling with all the grace of a one legged barbarian tripping on an overdose of purple moss.

Eventually, they made enough headway through the fortress to come to a long, eerie looking bridge with the still corpse of another undead dragon in the distance; blocking the path.

'Gee. This looks familiar.' Bob remarked sarcastically. That world really wasn't giving them any credit.

'No way we're falling for that. Time for another plan?' Stacy suggested as they huddled together by the stairs.

'An obvious trap, of course. Perhaps you two will allow me the initiative here?'

Bob and Stacy had no time to reply when Solaire broke the huddle and sprinted across the bridge, heading right for the undead dragon. He closed the distance in a flash and the dragon predictably roared to life, only to have its moldy skull pierced by a pair of lightning bolts thrown by Solaire in _mid-sprint_. The spears of light pronged out from its stunned face, until Solaire charged forward and dropkicked the tips of his magic projectiles with perfect accuracy; puncturing them into the monsters head and supercharging the force of Solaire's attack. Naturally, this caused the creatures entire head to explode shortly after the impact, and soon after the rest of its decaying body rolled off to the side and fell unceremouniously from the bridge.

The dragon's pair of legs were still there, but all they did was act as a macabre archway leading the way forward.

'Shall we, my friends?' He motioned forward without a trace of smugness in his jolly voice.

=][=

They'd made it to another fog gate, most likely leading to the boss of that area and hopefully the way out of that painted world.

Though Solaire was prone to random acts of reckless heroics, he still understood when times called for a well-laid plan. They huddled again and bounced a few ideas back and forth.

'Right. If it's a small demon, Bob'll get him in a full nelson while I punch him in the liver a hundred times!'

'If the creature is large, I'll weaken it's defenses with my glorious bolts of lightning!'

'Maybe we should just all attack at once? We'll beat the shit out of whatever disgusting thing rears its ugly face!'

They joined their hands in the centre.

'On three! One, two, three, SUNLIGHT!' Stacy cheered.

With vigour and bravery in their hearts, the trio moved through the fog gate...and did nothing.

Bob was getting used to being taken by surprise, but there still things in that crazy world that stopped his momentum dead in its tracks.

The demon, if it even was that, was _beautiful. _And not in the sultry double-standard way that Quelaag was. She was inhumanly tall, easily double of a normal human, with a frock weaved out of white silk with a snowy silvery sheen. Long, wavy hair of the same colour framed an elegant and soft face with skin so pale that it rivalled the thick pillows of snow at her bare feet.

Her eyes were a bright emeral green, crowned by a strange formation that seemed to be eyebrows composed of some thin coral, almost like horns. In her hands was a giant scythe, poised for combat but held so evenly as to invoke no true animosity.

Was it partly human? A trick of the senses made to dishearten men like himself from fighting? If that were the case, then it was definitely working. Still, whatever she was, she wasn't attacking them, or doing anything of note save watching them placidly.

Bob wasn't alone in his hesitation. Neither Solaire or Stacy had moved from the entrance of the fog gate. The fog itself didn't dissipate, so there was no doubt that they'd entered a boss room.

'Sol, uhh, what do we do?' Bob asked nervously. The Warrior of Sunlight looked to him for a moment but couldn't offer any suggestions.

'I do not know, Young Bob. I was not prepared for a sight like this.'

Bob turned to Stacy then, but she was just gazing at the woman, mesmerized by her otherwordly appearance.

'She's so beautiful…' Stacy whispered, more to herself than anything.

Without any other options, the trio approached the mysterious woman with Solaire taking the lead, motioning to Bob and Stacy behind him to keep their weapons sheathed.

When they were close enough, the woman spoke, her tone dulled and melancholy, but still irrecovably human.

'Who art thou all? One of us thou art not. If thou has misstepped into this world, then plunge down from the plank and hurry home. If thee all seekest I, then thine desires shall be requited not.'

Bob had a bit of a hard time understanding her Olde Lordran speech, but he understood the gist of what she'd said.

'Wait…you want us to jump off that cliff over there? Is that really the only way back?' Stacy asked incredously. 'You realise how insane that sounds, don't you?'

The woman regarded Stacy with the same emotionless expression.

'Thou must returneth whence thou came. This land is peaceful, it's inhabitants kind, but thou dost not belong. I beg of thee, plunge down from the plank and hurry home.'

'Peaceful? Do you know how many things tried to kill us on the way here?' Bob said quickly, stepping to Stacy's side. 'And frankly, telling us to jump off a cliff really isn't helping your little story there.'

She actually seemed a little surprised at Bob's words, furrowing her eyebrows/horns.

'…They sought your lives? That is…strange.'

'They speak the truth.' Solaire added, approaching her calmly. 'This land is far from peaceful. Which is why I am puzzled at your prescence. You have the demenour of a kind woman, a stark contrast to what I've witnessed thus far.'

She said nothing, and broke eye contact warily.

'But first, forgive us for this trespass unto your world. I, Solaire of Astora, and my companions Young Bob and Fair Stacy, are most gracious for the swift exit you have offered us.'

'…Yes.' She barely mouthed. Something was troubling her deeply, Bob thought curiously.

Solaire then turned to them.

'She is telling the truth. That fall will return us home.'

As crazy as it sounded, Bob and Stacy had no reason to start doubting Solaire's judgement. After all, they'd reached that strange world by being sucked into a painting. It only made sense that something as trifling as a fall would send them back.

'Allright, Sol.' Bob nodded.

'Hm, if you say so.'

They moved past the giant woman, with Bob and Stacy giving her a wider berth than their leader. She seemed to be completely ignoring them at that point, lost in her own pained thoughts.

As Solaire and Bob reached the supposed exit, Stacy paused and turned back to the woman, echoing the same movements that had gotten them in that situation in the first place.

'Stace, what're you doing this time?' Bob called out to her. She looked to him briefly and offered a knowing glare, walking back towards the scythe-wielding woman.

Stacy approached her steadily, pulling something from her pocket in the process and offering the small and grubby object she had fished out to her. Bob was shocked when the woman suddenly dropped her scythe and slowly reached for the object Stacy had in her hand, her green eyes awash with sudden emotion.

Bob moved on reflex but Solaire's sturdy hand moved to his chest and stopped him in place.

'Be still.' He said quietly, and watched the scene unfold.

The woman had taken the item Stacy had offered. Clutching it with adoring disbelief.

'W-where…did you come upon this…?' She actually stammered, gazing at Stacy with wide eyes.

Stacy was a little shaken at the sudden gamut of sentiment, but did her best to reply.

'I've been holding it for a while…' She explained slowly. 'I found it in one of the cells at the asylum. I'm not too sure why, but I felt it belonged to you. I guess my hunch was right…'

On closer inspection, Bob noticed the item in question was a moldy green doll of some kind. He could barely recall their escape from the Asylum, but he did manage to remember Stacy picking something up from that place as she described. What were the chances it'd belong to the giant woman?

Stacy, unsure of what to follow up with, awkwardly backpedalled away from the now silent woman, who was now clutching the doll so tight as if to never let go.

'Well, uhhh, just glad to help, I guess. I should be going now.' She stammered, and walked quickly towards Bob and Solaire.

'Don't ask, Ok?' She hissed and passed them hurriedly, and without even hesitating, did a running leap off the ledge.

Solaire laughed and followed after her, doing a kickass ninja flip before dissappearing from sight.

Bob wavered, of course, even as he peeked over the edge to see that they'd completely dissappeared from sight. He looked behind him at the woman and felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw the look of absolute serenity and joy in her teary face. She was gazing right at him too.

'Wugh!'

And of course he tripped, instantly cartwheeling horribly with the loose momentum, that image of her smile frozen in his mind.

=][=

And just like that, they were back. The sensation of falling, that merciless tug of gravity's will barely registered in Bob's mind and body. He was just there. Standing right outside the gigantic painting that acted as the portal to that strange, snowy world.

He felt a bit dizzy. Inter-dimensional travel seemed to have that effect on him. Like before, speaking aloud would probably be a good idea to regain his senses.

'Everyone here?' He asked blankly, staring forward at the smashed remains of the chandelier in the middle of the spacious room.

'Yeah, I'm Ok.'

'I am here as always, Young Bob.'

'As am I.'

Bob breathed a sigh of relief. They'd made it back safe and sound. He supposed it was time to continue exploring Anor Lo-

_Wait…_

The responses from his friends. One. Two. Three.

Three.

Bob looked to his side. Then _up. _

The giant, scythe-wielding demon woman in white was standing next to him, smiling serenely.

Bob and Stacy screamed. Solaire just laughed.

She cocked her head curiously.

'Art thou all right?'

Stacy collected herself and resumed to facepalm.

'What the hell is going on?' She grumbled.

You could almost see Solaire's bright smile through his bucket helmet.

'Jolly cooperation.'


	10. Dragonslayer Spear

_Queen's Notice Board: Aw, you guys! All these nice reviews continue to warm my bitter heart. My fics are nothing without all of you. _

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

_Dragonslayer Spear_

They'd escaped the Painted World of Ariamis. At least, that's what she had called it. Specifically, the 11ft tall, scythe sporting, demon beauty from a different dimension.

'Priscilla. A pleasure.' She introduced herself with a delicate bow, then vanished right before their eyes.

Bob thought she'd teleported away or something, but quickly realized that invisibility appeared to be one of her powers. Unless the painting guardians had suddenly developed a knack for slicing themselves in half, that was the only explanation.

Her invisibility wore off after a few seconds, but it did the last guardian no good either way. He charged towards the impossible opponent with all the ruthlessness that a calm jog could bodily express, throwing a few daggers at her. Priscilla windmilled her scythe around to deflect the projectiles. Bob gaped at that; her weapon was bigger than he was, and to move it so quickly was an absolutely incredible sight.

The guardian leapt at her, but was stopped short only an inch off the ground when he ate Priscilla's bare foot on the way up. With a little grin, Priscilla drove her weight down and flattened the white clothed enemy with a cringe-inducing crunch that also piledrived what was left of him into a small crater.

Priscilla gracefully pulled her foot from the hole and scraped a few loose pieces of guardian from it with the safe end of her scythe, before turning back to the Solaire, Bob, and Stacy, with an utterly disarming smile.

Bob couldn't put into words what he was feeling. It was a strange mixture of being enthralled by her majestic beauty and completely scared shitless of her combat prowess. And to top it off, he couldn't stop staring at her tail. It was so fuzzy…and white. A few times he had to mentally restrain himself from reaching over to lovingly pet it when Priscilla was nearby.

Stacy, once again displaying her knack for having a similar train of thought, blurted out: 'C-can I touch your tail?!'

Bob had expected her to balk at such a question, but her composure appeared unflappable, even by Solaire's standards.

'If you wish.' Priscilla complied with another sweet smile, even appearing a little content at such a request.

Stacy wasted no time and gently ran her hands over Priscilla's tail, immediately blushing a deep red as a stupid grin crossed her face.

'Ahhhh…' She squeaked. 'So soft!'

'You have no idea how strange I feel watching this…' Bob finally managed to speak, whispering to Solaire.

'…Indeed.' He replied with a concerned look.

=][=

After the uncomfortable scene, the trio agreed to backtrack to the bonfire they'd rested at previously, with Priscilla tagging along happily of her own free will.

Arcadia, the Fire Keeper, was strangely absent. The fire was still burning bright, which according to Solaire meant she was fine, explaining that a Firekeepers soul was literally tied to the flame she kept.

Regardless of Arcadia being elsewhere, they took the opportunity to relax after the series of events in the Painted World. Priscilla seemed the most happy with being able to sit down for a bit, as the tight corridor leading to the bonfire had made her awkwardly shuffle inside in a crouched position.

'So, Priscilla…' Stacy started her inquiry uneasily. 'What's the story with that Painted World? How'd you end up in there?'

Priscilla's soft smile faded at that innocent question. As she spoke; she stared into the flames; her eyes listless and distant.

'I was imprisoned there, many years ago, by a lord named Ariamis. I do not remember much, for I was but a child, but my first memories are from the Asylum. Locked away in darkness so thick that no flicker of light would scrape at its edges. It was there that I found Ophelia, my doll.'

At those words Priscilla held up the peculiar doll that Stacy had given to her in that frozen world. A faint hint of her smile returned as she held the grubby thing in her hands.

'Ophelia had probably belonged to the occupant before me, who I assumed must have named her.'

Bob took a closer look. It was easily missed, but the name was stitched into the dolls side.

'Ophelia gave me the small comfort I needed to survive in that horrible place. However, there was something else the doll was doing for me that I hadn't understood at the time.'

'What…?' Stacy asked curiously, sitting huddled next to her, resting her chin on her knees as she hung on Priscilla's every word.

Priscilla looked to Stacy below her with a warm and loving expression.

'It made me remember. All those years ago, the Asylum had an effect on those kept within its confines. It made you forget who you are. Whatever truth you held in your heart eventually disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.'

'What a terrible fate…' Solaire said quietly, dipping his helmet. Priscilla continued speaking.

'Then Ariamis appeared before me. Such painful light invaded my once dark cell as he spoke. He told me I was an abomination, that I could not be kept there much longer lest someone discover me, and that he'd created a world where I would reside until the end of time. With that, I felt an incredible cold overcome me, like falling through a blizzard—'

_That sounds familiar_, Bob thought to himself, but didn't interrupt her story.

'—then I awoke in that world…and Ophelia was gone. I remember clawing through the snow, screaming her name as I searched for the doll. Searched for my memories. But like the winding blizzard that surrounded me, it twisted into a white haze of nothingness.'

'Woah.' Stacy breathed, eyes wide.

'I spent centuries trapped there, never knowing who I was, or caring at all as to why I was in such a place…until you all found me. And you—'

Priscilla gently placed her hand on Stacy's blonde bob cut. She looked like she was about to faint at the affectionate gesture, blushing uncontrollably.

'You found my memories, and returned them to me. And for that, I am forever in your debt.'

A strange, comfortable silence fell upon the people in the room as the story Priscilla had told was slowly interpreted in their minds.

'Quite a tale, Lady Priscilla.' Solaire exclaimed. 'And pardon my curiosity, but am I to assume that you are a crossbreed, yes?'

Bob's throat suddenly choked up. He saw where the conversation was going but some twisted part of his mind made it impossible to interject.

'…Yes.' Priscilla answered somewhat uneasily. Out of her line of sight, Stacy was motioning to Solaire with a crazed look and rapid shakes of her head. Solaire seemed to pick up on Stacy's frenzied body language and understood enough to try and change the subject awkwardly.

'Oh, _ahem_. Pardon me. Your tail is quite exquisite.'

And just like that, the comfortable atmosphere was annihilated. As everyone sat motionless around the fire, Stacy was the first to move. Her motion being to slowly pull her hood over her eyes in a deliberately stiff manner.

'Praise the Sun.' Bob groaned.

=][=

The group saw their first real roadblock in Anor Londo after crossing a gigantic ascending staircase leading to the largest structure in the Lost City. Two of the giants blocked the path, making an encounter clearly unavoidable. Of course, the newest addition to their little group was quick to assert her worth when she casually approached the giant on the left, easily parried its wide halberd swing and brought her scythe down with chilling precision; splitting its helmet in two like a can made of tinfoil.

Solaire, Bob and Stacy tussled with the other giant. They easily outmanoeuvred it due to its embarrassingly slow turning speed. The Warrior of Sunlight got its attention by charging towards and deftly rolling out of the way of the giants spearing halberd thrust. Bob and Stacy broke left and right, closed the distance before the giant could recover from the attack and stabbed and poked every inch of the armored foe.

'Take a knee ya clumsy prick!' Stacy yelled, smashing her Zweihander into the giants toes. It lost its balance and fell forward but was thrown brutally in the opposite direction owing to Solaire's trademark drop-kick.

The giant going airborne proved to be something that even the so-called Lost City couldn't handle as the armoured missile ploughed right through the towering door it was supposedly guarding. The entire frame collapsed shortly afterward, leaving an easily surmountable mound of debris and rubble.

'How fortunate for us.' Priscilla observed, tearing her scythe out of the giants' cleaved head. 'Shall we move on?'

She lead the way at a relaxed and eerily peaceful pace; her movements ethereal and elegant with each barefooted step on the marble floors.

'Unbelievable.' Stacy exclaimed as their tallest team member entered the huge building fearlessly. 'Priscilla is so fucking awesome.'

'Indeed, Stacy.' Solaire replied, stepping in closer in an obvious motion to garner some attention from her. 'I must say, you look positively _radiant_ today. Have you been utilizing expensive hair oils as of late?'

'Uh huh. Yup.' She replied languidly, not even sparing a glance at the Warrior vying for her attention, and completely blew him off by sprinting after Priscilla soon after; screaming obscenity-laden praises.

'Fair Stacy! Please wait!' Solaire yelled and chased after her.

Bob just grinned at the cheesy scene unfolding before him. It looked like Solaire was going to have a bit of competition in regards to Stacy's affections, Bob thought with a pang of sympathy for his friend.

Regardless, they grouped together within the enormous building. Some new enemies were lying in wait, most notably the miracle-flinging Sentinels. They fought much the same as the vanilla giants, only they had the annoying habit of casting the heal spell whenever they were low on health.

It didn't do them much good, as Priscilla would calmly decapitate them with her scythe the second they knelt down to try and cast. Adding to the fight was a cheeky Silver Knight with a Dragonslayer Bow sniping down at them from a narrow staircase on the side wall.

Bob blocked one of the arrows but underestimated the force of the impact which knocked him off his feet. To his surprise he reflexively tucked his body and rolled with the hit, effectively keeping his balance. Still, his arms just about popped out of their sockets. To make things worse, the sniper was already readying another huge arrow in its Dragonslayer, its glinting tip only a second away from splitting the air and bearing down on Bob before he could recover.

'Oh, fuck!' he cursed, trying fruitfully to will his arms into responding.

Too late. The arrow tore through the air in brutal slow motion. In that twisted moment of infinity, Bob already felt it punch through his armor like wet paper and puncturing his chest without resistance.

But Stacy was there. Screaming a soundless battle cry, pulling off the impossible by slicing the arrow in mid-shot with her gigantic sword. Her blade cut it right down the middle so the two pieces split and missed Bob's exposed torso.

'Stace! Damn!' Was all he could blurt out.

Solaire had been bounding up the steps leading to the Silver Knight in those few seconds. It smugly switched targets as he closed in and fired another arrow right at him. Solaire just snapped his shield sideways and swatted the projectile away, already lunging at the knight before it could even switch weapons. With a triumphant shout Solaire stabbed the tip of his sword into the small cut of the knights helmet; effectively piercing its dumbass face right through the eye.

With the long-range threat destroyed, the area was secured. A large fog gate hung up a grim flight of stairs; looming and silent. Bob's initial gut feeling was to worry. No doubt there'd be another powerful demon behind it, just like every other time. So why was he so hesitant? He continued to stare up the flight of stairs at the swirling wall of white nothingness as his companions talked amongst themselves.

'Young Bob, what troubles you?'

Solaire saying his name brought Bob back to earth. He was refocused, but that deep gnawing doubt in his gut remained. He couldn't stay quiet about it. And he was sure Solaire would see right through any attempted lies.

'…Something about that fog gate's got me worried…' He murmured as he glanced over to it again.

Stacy approached him with a sly smile. 'Oooh, what's that? Losing your nerve? Come on, Bob. We've got Solaire AND Priscilla here with us. No stupid boss is going to stand a chance. Hell, even two at the same time will be no problem.'

How odd, thought Bob. Solaire and Priscilla were incredible companions, yet it was Stacy's own words that seemed to calm him the most.

The fear, the doubt was gone in an instant. Why the heck had he been worried in the first place?

'Yeah, I must've chugged too much Estus or something. Sorry guys. Didn't mean to worry everyone.'

Solaire patted him on the back as he passed him and lead the way up the staircase.

'Do not fret, Young Bob.' Solaire exclaimed as he closed in on the fog door as everyone followed closely behind. 'As long as we travel as one, nothing will end our glorious journey!'

'Fuck yeah!' Stacy cheered.

'What does that word mean, Fair Stacy?' Priscilla asked her curiously as they ascended the staircase steadily.

'Oh, you mean "Fuck?"'

'Yes.'

'Hm, well it kinda has lots of meanings. In my case, I said it because I was happy. Y'know, like a cheerful expression.'

Priscilla weighed the explanation carefully, wrinkling her nose.

'I believe I understand.' She said with a serene smile. 'Then by your example, I will see my debt to you repaid with fuck in my heart.'

'Holy Sh—' Bob tripped on one of the steps and checked his shin painfully. 'URGH!'

=][=

The instant they stepped through the fog gate a fat, disgusting armored demon with a hilariously undersized head bulldozed towards them from the opposite end of the chamber; crumbling an entire lane of pillars to dust with its berserker charge.

'Scatter!' Solaire yelled. Bob somehow knew that command was aimed at himself and Stacy more than anything. They complied immediately, falling back and to the side as Priscilla _flew_ across the room; literally defying gravity as she blasted from the entrance and met the demon in the centre in the span of a second and a half.

It's hammer fell with terrifying force. For a horrifying moment Bob thought it was going to flatten Priscilla, but he clearly underestimated her sheer strength when she parried the attack with her scythe and knocked the fat bastard completely off balance.

Solaire moved in, curiously whipping through from underneath Priscilla's dress in an immaculate power slide the moment she had deflected the attack. He surged forward with sword and shield in hand, still sliding on his knees in a blazing shower of sparks gleaming from his leg armor.

Then he stabbed it in the balls.

'Damn, Sol!' Stacy screamed in disbelief.

The demon stood awkwardly and utterly stunned, its hammer dropping from its stumpy hands and clattering to the floor uselessly.

Priscilla followed up the attack perfectly with a vicious horizontal swipe with her scythe. In that one graceful movement she sliced off the fat demons giraffic head, before the rest of its body collapsed to the ground and went completely still.

Bob's first reaction was to cheer at yet another demon that had fallen before them, but he stopped himself short. A heavy atmosphere was forming all around him like dull static lightning prickling the hairs on the back of his head. Almost on reflex, he found himself looking skyward at yet another demon watching them from a small balcony. It appeared to be the total opposite of the decapitated fat ass, bearing sleek and stylish armor topped off with a helmet with a billowing crimson mane, and a long pointed spear crackling with golden light.

Bob didn't need to warn his companions. He felt everybody tracing his gaze and staring up at the new threat, cautious but ready for a fight.

'What…' Bob sputtered when he saw another figure emerge from behind the golden knight, and instantly felt his blood boil when he recognized the smug swagger of the Elite Armor the guy was donned in.

'Bob! It's him!' Stacy seethed, glaring acidic daggers up at the Chosen Undead.

Why was he there, Bob wondered. Wasn't it the Chosen's destiny to defeat all the demons and link the fires and whatnot? What the hell was he doing working with the demon?

The confusion quickly lumped aside in Bob's head when he saw two more people calmly walk out onto the balcony and stand in place next to the Chosen.

One was a malicious-looking warrior wearing deep-amber armor and wielding two shotels; the embracing arm motif on his chest plate quite prominent. And the other…

'Oh shit…'

The other was Black Iron Tarkus.

'Oh, no way!' Stacy cried disdainfully when she noticed him too.

'Be calm, my friends.' Solaire whispered, tensing his body for further battle. Bob simply couldn't wrap his head around how the Warrior of Sunlight could stay so calm.

'Dragonslayer Ornstein, one of the four.' Priscilla said cryptically, gripping her scythe. 'Black Iron Tarkus, Lautrec of Carim, and the Chosen Undead…'

The four jumped from the balcony at the same time, with the one Bob guessed was Ornstein, plunging his spear into the fat demon's chest as he landed. There was a surge of crackling power, then Bob felt his growing fear and dread reach fever pitch when Dragonslayer Ornstein suddenly grew to almost three times his original size. His spear had ballooned ridiculously as well, going from a rangy weapon to a ghastly totem of a spear that could shish-kebab them all and still have room for more.

'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!' Stacy was panicking. Her Zweihander looked about ready to slip from her clammy, shaking hands. 'Sol! What do we do?!'

'Quiet yourself.' Solaire replied sternly, with more seriousness in his tone than Bob had ever heard. 'We stand and fight, Fair Stacy.'

There was no time to formulate some kind of plan, because Ornstein Mark II abruptly launched forward with stupid speed for his size, zoning towards them rapidly with his spear raised high; ready to slice apart the entire width of the room with one strike.

Priscilla shot off the mark herself, meeting Ornstein in the centre of the room as their massive weapons clashed together in a blinding rend of metals. Bob had been so distracted by the sight that he didn't notice Tarkus barrelling towards him from the right.

'Fuck NO!' He yelled and instinctively rolled backwards. A cutting rush of air glanced off his helmet and slammed brutally into the ground where he'd been standing half-a-second ago. Bob had barely registered what had happened when Tarkus charged towards him again; hefting his sword from the crater in the ground and raising its blade high.

He took one look at Tarkus' greatsword and quickly concluded that it would cut him in half with one swipe wether he was blocking or not.

Tarkus attacked again with another overhead strike. Bob tried to anticipate it this time. Maybe if he sidestepped at the right time he could counterattack?

Of course, he quickly realized he was kidding himself. Tarkus switched stances and hurled out a horizontal slash out of nowhere. Bob was backpedalling as fast as he could but his frenzied mind was already telling him it was over. No time to move. The greatsword cleaved its way into his torso and—

-never actually got that far. In a twist of blind luck Tarkus' sword had sliced halfway into one of the remaining pillars in the room, effectively halting its motion.

A sudden gut feeling of crazed survival instinct and latent bloodlust overcame Bob for a brief moment, so much so that he swarmed on the opportunity and thrust his sword right into Tarkus' face.

Bob's sword stuck and shunted forward a fraction and for that one ridiculous moment in history Bob held the accolade of killing Black Iron Tarkus.

That is until Bob fell back to reality and saw his own puny sword held firmly in Tarkus' shield hand. Bob probably would've crapped himself if his entire body wasn't paralysed.

Tarkus casually closed his gauntlet over Bob's sword and shattered its blade like glass under an iron hammer. Bob fell onto his backside, now clutching a useless sword handle. He scurried away frantically as Tarkus removed his own sword from the pillar it had been stuck in and closed in on Bob slowly.

Bob's back hit a wall; a soul-crushing, life-ending wall. All he could do was try and scramble to his feet, throwing away what was left of his sword and grimly held his battered shield with both hands in a fit of desperation.

But then, Tarkus stopped, watching Bob silently. Something about his invisible gaze was unnerving, like the slits in his helmet were judging the very fibre of his frail being.

Then he turned his back, utterly dismissing Bob as any real threat. Bob himself felt a glut of relief and shame at such a display, but the dread came back in force when he saw Tarkus lumbering over to Solaire instead, who was already locked in a bitter fight with the Chosen Undead.

_Tarkus was going to kill him_, Bob suddenly grasped with numbing horror. Solaire was completely absorbed in his own fight, parrying and striking with Chosen's vicious claymore and pyromancy combinations.

In a painful instant of shame, Bob considered running away; to simply sprint for all he was worth to some quiet dark corner of Lordran and go hollow, to forget about his friends.

The thought was so disgusting that Bob did something incredibly stupid instead.

'Hey! Black Iron…FUCKUS!'

Tarkus grinded to a stop and glanced at him, probably horrified at Bob's attempt at rude wordplay more than anything. Whatever the case, it was working. And Bob was just getting started.

'Yeah, that's right! We aren't finished by a longshot! Just try swinging that pointed twig you call a sword at me again! Bet your little arms'll snap just trying!'

Tarkus continued to pause awkwardly, then _stormed _towards Bob in a sudden shift of momentum.

'_What the fuck am I doing holy shit it's Tarkus my ass hurts Solaire Stacy stay safe oh shit oh shit oh shit!' _

Bob's state of mind was bordering on insanity to such an extent that he felt a weird vibe of clarity that overtook his crippling fear.

Then he ran. With Tarkus never trailing far behind. In fact, Tarkus was faster than he was even with the clear weight difference. The only reason Bob was able to stay in one piece was because he could feel the marble tile beneath his feet quake every time Tarkus closed the distance, and used that as a tell to time a dodge roll with his last sliver of stamina.

Bob knew he couldn't possibly keep up the pursuit. Eventually his bloodied knees were going to buckle instead of vaulting him out of harm's way, and Tarkus' greatsword would splatter him into the ground.

Already his veins were pumping acid, and it took sheer force of will to clamber up the ladder leading to the criss-crossing beams high above the painting chamber. The ladder itself was pulverized a single rung below Bob's foot, having been smashed to jigsaw sized pieces by a wide swing of Tarkus' sword.

Bob barely pulled himself up and scrambled away on all-fours towards one of the narrow beams. Despite the sheer fall looming below Bob didn't pause for a second and hugged the beam as he moved as fast as he could. Behind him, Tarkus had leapt the entire length of the ladder in one go and landed perfectly up top.

Bob could barely move at that point. He could feel the beam he was crawling over creak dangerously as it took Tarkus' weight. Part of him just wanted it to break and let them both fall, just so he could finally draw a rattling breath that his lungs were painfully clawing for.

Suddenly, the added weight on the beam vanished. Bob wished for a desperate moment that Tarkus had slipped and fell, but when that weight quickly reapplied itself right in front of him, Bob knew he was completely screwed.

He looked up feebly as Tarkus towered above him; his huge hulking form balanced perfectly on the beam. Bob had nothing left in him, so all he could do was stare back at him and wait for the end.

He even laughed a little, although it sounded more like a pained cough. Even though he knew he was going to die quite horribly, at the very least he had done something for his friends by distracting Black iron Tarkus for as long as he could.

'This is good…right?' Bob wheezed.

Tarkus lifted his sword and brought it down heavy and crushed Bob's head instantly.

'_Huh. That didn't hurt so much.'_

In fact, he didn't feel anything. The sword just hung there, inches from his head. But he quickly realized why it'd stopped when the parrying dagger wedged between the beam and the blade swam into view from the corner of his eye.

A flash of crackling, dark blue light cut in from the right of Tarkus; faster than anything Bob had ever seen. The female Firekeeper Arcadia literally phased in out of nowhere. The blue light was wreathed across the blade of her short rapier as she plunged it through the fabric of space and right towards the nape of Tarkus' neck.

But Tarkus somehow saw it. Without even turning his head he swung his own gigantic sword out and connected with Arcadia's comparatively tiny sword, but thanks to whatever enchantment it had was able to take the incredible brunt of Tarkus' swing.

The next few seconds were like a surreal dream. Arcadia broke the weapon clash and leapt backwards and to Bob's horror, spiked her enchanted sword into the beams' wooden frame. As soon as the pointed edge of her weapon barely whiffed the surface it just _exploded_.

The force was so instantaneous and overwhelming that the entire network of wooden beams fell apart and just dropped.

Including the one Bob had been clinging to. He screamed as it broke off with the others and took him on gravity's sadistic downwards plunge.

A powerful force suddenly clutched the back ridge of Bob's armor, painfully cutting the fall short as the beam he'd been holding onto fell away without him.

He watched, floating there, as Tarkus plummeted downwards in slow motion. There was nothing for the other man to hold onto, no strange unknown force to save him.

And he fell. His entire, armor-clad form rocketed downwards at the hard marble far down below.

Bob squinted his eyes shut and felt the whole room shake when Tarkus hit the ground. He mustered the last of his strength to peek upwards at what had prevented him from falling.

An angel was holding him. That did it. Bob knew Tarkus had killed him and he was in the process of experiencing some lucid afterlife.

But the pain and exhaustion quickly snubbed that theory. That and the matter of the angel's bizarre appearance. It looked like a woman wearing a soft, silken gown and wearing an incredibly uncomfortable mask shaped like a pointed golden star.

Bob thought of saying something profound at his first meeting with a celestial being.

'Hey.'

But he was too bloody tired.

She spoke then with a voice quite a bit deeper than he had expected.

'You and your companions have been causing quite the commotion in my city. If it wasn't at my most loyal servants insistence, then I would have not intervened. Consider yourself blessed by the gods to be saved by Dark Sun Gwyndolin.'

Bob didn't like her attitude one bit, but naturally, he was in no position to argue.

'Ah, y-yeah.' He did his best to ignore the possible plummet below him, and instead glanced sideways at Arcadia, who was standing safely on a walkway to his right. She was sheathing her sword and gave him an acknowledging nod. Bob grinned and gave her a thankful salute.

Bob considered just passing out for a moment but he quickly remembered why he was in such a ridiculous position in the first place.

'Oh shit!'

'Careful! Or do you want to fall to your death?!'

'My friends! They're fighting that dragon knight guy with the spear! The chosen undead's fighting along with it. And there's some guy with two shotels there too! I've gotta help them!'

Gwyndolin lifted him higher so he dangled pathetically right in front of her face like a caught mouse. Bob noted the soft, pale lips peeking out from the bottom of that lethal mask.

'You will explain yourself first. Then I shall decide what's to become of the others as well as yourself.'

Bob was already losing his patience. Every second he spent just dangling there was a critical loss. He worried about Stacy more than anything. Solaire and Priscilla could handle themselves but she was dangerously wild and reckless.

'For the love of…just set me down somewhere, allright! I have to go!'

'How dare you try and command me, mortal? Perhaps I should just-'

'Master Gwyndolin!' Arcadia interrupted, yelling out from the walkway. 'I must ask him something urgently!'

Bob felt himself just blink out of existence and before he could even compose himself fell hard at Arcadia's feet. She quickly knelt down and helped him sit up.

'You mentioned a man with two shotels. Was he wearing a suit of armor bearing the motif of the goddess Fina? A set of embracing arms?'

'Yeah. Something like that.' He replied, already hoisting himself to his feet. He had to get back to that room as soon as he could, regardless of whatever Arcadia or Gwyndolin wanted. 'It looked pretty stupid. Now if you'll excuse me…'

'Master Gwyndolin, we must join the battle!' Arcadia proclaimed as she drew her sword and a small talisman in her free hand. 'Lautrec of Carim is there!'

Gwyndolin bared her teeth at that name, and her next words were hissed with hateful venom.

'That sinner…walks my halls…?'

Bob couldn't tell where she was looking, but something told him the question had been aimed at him.

'Y-yeah, I mean, yes. The shotel guy with the hugging armor. He's with the chosen.'

Gwyndolin weighed his answer quietly and signalled towards Arcadia with a quick downwards swipe of her right hand.

'Kill the sinner, Blade of the Darkmoon.'

Arcadia nodded and grabbed hold of Bob's forearm tightly as a bright, unnatural light was already warping the room around him.

Bob already knew what was happening. He just gripped the handle of his shield and hoped he wasn't too late.

'Hang on guys.' He said dramatically as the light intensified around him.

Nothing happened for thirty stifling seconds. Bob continued to stand there awkwardly with Arcadia gripping his arm.

'Ugh, guess I didn't time that right.'

Arcadia sighed and replied flatly.

'You're an idiot.'


	11. Try Holding with Both Hands

_Queen's Notice board: Holy crap do I love you guys. _

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

It was chaos. Complete, utter chaos. The second Bob and Arcadia literally blinked into existence in the midst of the fight Bob couldn't hold back his complete shock.

The large boss room had been all but obliterated the short time Bob had been away. Every inch of wall and floor was ravaged with deep slices and punctured with craters spewing flame. There was even a huge chunk blasted out of the roof; still crackling with golden sparks.

Bob assessed the situation as best as he could, ignoring the multiple signals of injury and assorted pain with a hit of vertigo that threatened to knock him out before a fight even started.

There was Stacy, fighting furiously against Lautrec in the left corner near the entrance. She was swinging her sword in a frenzied dance of bloodlust, yelling and cursing aloud with each attack. Several small cuts were etched around her legs and arms, bleeding into the fabric of her white robe. Despite her furious attacks Lautrec was unfazed and maybe even a little amused as he deftly dodged her attacks and nicked at Stacy's exposed flanks.

_He was toying with her_, Bob seethed, already charging towards Lautrec before he could hurt her any more. As he ran towards her Arcadia blitzed past him and lunged at Lautrec with her enchanted rapier, effectively taking over the fight as she pushed the man back with her endless flurry of stabs.

'What the f—?!' Stacy yelped when Arcadia jumped into the fray, and when she saw Bob approaching her she fumed at him. 'Bob! Where'd you go, huh?! I can't believe you just…just…'

'Stace!' Bob saw her fall and dove in to try and catch her, but she righted herself by quickly plunging her sword into the ground for balance. Bob did what he could to support her frame but she brushed him off stubbornly.

'Ugh. That guy was good. I don't think he was taking me seriously either. Shit, now I can't feel my arms…'

'Take it easy, allright?' Bob said sternly, roving his gaze over the rest of the battle underway. Naturally, Priscilla and Ornstein had centre stage as they engaged in a tornado of strikes full of parries, reversals and stance changes. Ornstein seemed to have the upper hand, Bob noted with a pang of worry. The incredible reach of his weapon kept Priscilla at bay, who was forced on the defensive most of the time, and would barely hop out of the way every time Ornstein would try and snipe at her with a blast of energy from the tip of his spear.

Bob knew he'd be of no help in that fight. Hell, chances were he'd be splattered like a bug accidently by Priscilla if he got too close.

Arcadia was _possessed_. Her relentless pressure pushed Lautrec against a wall as she gave him no chance to counterattack. Whatever Lautrec had done to piss her off, it must've been horrible for Arcadia to be hell bent in million-stabbing his goofy-looking armor into sawdust.

Bob turned to Solaire, still locked in a battle against the Chosen Undead and immediately felt his blood boil. Chosen was fighting like a complete dipshit. He would constantly jog backwards and throw a gout of Great Combustion every time Solaire tried to close in. And on top of that, Chosen saw fit to cartwheel all over the place, which looked obscenely fucking stupid in the Elite Knight Armor.

'Stace.' Bob growled dangerously. 'I'm going.'

He didn't wait for a response and just charged right for him, ignoring the searing bolt of lightning that passed right over his head and blasted another huge chunk out of the wall.

Chosen saw him approach and back-flipped three times to get some distance. Bob halted his advance and stood ready next to Solaire who looked uncharacteristically ruffled.

'Young Bob. I am glad to see you safe. This is a most…aggravating opponent. The Chosen Undead will not fight me directly, and his gestures mock me at every opportunity.'

'Typical Elitist bastard.' Bob snarled as Chosen did the "Well, what is it?" pose. 'Sol, let's take him down a few pegs.'

Solaire nodded happily. 'I have no idea what that means, but I'm more than happy to fight by your side!'

Solaire rushed forward and Bob followed, attacking Chosen's opposite flank. Naturally, Chosen just flipped out of range constantly, only pausing to throw a fireball or spout another wall of flame in front of him to create more distance.

'Hold still you freak!'

Solaire closed in again but quickly stopped when Chosen suddenly raised his hand at him. Bob thought it was another pyromancy move, but was surprised when he bowed low and respectfully at Solaire.

'I see you've finally decided to fight like honourable warriors…' Solaire paused, lowering his sword. Bob immediately knew something was wrong at the whole scene, and opened his mouth to warn Solaire. A sudden blast close behind Bob threw him off-balance again, with the sheer noise popping his eardrums into temporary deafness.

He watched as Solaire returned the bow…only for Chosen to charge in and swung both his flaming claymores into his midsection, horribly connecting with enough force to launch Solaire the length of the room; his trademark sword and shield flying from his hands.

Bob screamed, at least he tried to but couldn't hear his own voice. Already he was tackling Chosen from behind with more strength than he thought he had.

Chosen was as shocked by the attack as Bob was, grunting aloud in clear frustration. Taking the incredible momentum, Bob lifted Chosen off his feet and slammed him with crushing force into the ground, driving him into the marble floor.

Bob just pummelled him mercilessly with his bare hands, punching and smashing and elbowing in a ceaseless fit of rage. Chosen grunted again as he tried to throw him off but Bob responded by landing a brutal haymaker into the side of Chosen's helmet; denting it inwards with the impact. The attack set something off in the Chosen Undead and he thrust his hip out and violently bucked Bob off of him. In some brilliant moment of clarity and stupendous luck, Bob managed to use the momentum of being thrown off to lock his hands around the Chosen's waist and vault him completely off the floor; Elite Armor and all. Chosen acted much faster than Bob had anticipated; already burying the palm of his pyromancy glove into Bob's face, a second away from incinerating his head with a blast of Great Combustion.

But that was all the opening Bob needed. With a furious yell he slung his hand under Chosen's extended pyromancy arm and flipped his entire body upside down before piledriving him helmet-first into the ground. Bob felt the Chosen go limp after the crushing hit and let his unconscious body flop to the ground unceremoniously. Tasting blood through his grit teeth, Bob closed in on his incapacitated opponent with clenched fists, his whole being trembling with violence and fury.

But he stopped. His hearing returned and the sound of ongoing battle rushed his ears. He stepped away slowly, arms burning from over-exertion, his heart almost bursting out his chest with its erratic beating, and left Chosen where he lay.

Priscilla suddenly flew past him and landed hard, her huge white frame burrowing into the ground to form a tearing trench. Despite the impact she didn't look the slightest bit worried, still with that placid and serene face.

Bob saw Ornstein on the far side of the room. The Dragonslayer coiled his body downwards, ready to blast off the mark and deliver a killing blow with his spear. Priscilla continued to just watch her opponent, now with a small smile forming on her lips.

_What the hell is she doing?!_ Bob thought frantically. She had to get up or Ornstein was going to impale her. He tried to yell out when the Dragonslayer beared down on her in a burst of insane speed…then trip spectacularly. His dragon shaped helmet ploughed into the ground and tore a similar trench into the ground as Priscilla had caused before him. But with the speed Ornstein had been going at, coupled with his increased size, made it so his form powered forward hopelessly and come to a metal-shrieking, gut-wrenching stop against the fog door.

Even after such an incredible hit, Ornstein pulled himself up and stood shakily; his helmet skewed horribly to look like a horrible metalwork's experiment.

Priscilla was already on her feet by then but she didn't make a move to attack. She still wore that disarming smile of hers.

Then Bob spotted it; a tiny gash on Ornstein's right leg. It was bleeding horrifically to the point that the Dragonslayer's entire leg became a deep crimson bathed appendage.

Priscilla stroked a graceful hand through her glossy hair as she spoke.

'Do not fight the Lifehunt. Embrace Oblivion.'

Ornstein snorted at the phrase and took a single step. The instant his foot lifted off the ground a torrent of blood blasted out from the cut. The Knight was frozen in place for a stunning moment, then teetered forward before smashing face-first into the floor and lying still.

At the same time that was happening, Arcadia delivered the coup de grace to Lautrec after parrying a slicing shotel cut. She didn't just run him through. Her blade just vanished in a blur of stabs so rapid that for a few seconds Lautrec's entire body disappeared amongst a flood of azure blue energy.

When she finally drew back her sword, Lautrec was just standing there.

Arcadia sheathed her sword slowly, deliberately. When her rapier clicked into its sheath Lautrec just _exploded_. Every inch of him was disintegrated in a blast of deep blue as a few loose specks of energy sparkled outwards then vanished; leaving absolutely nothing left of Lautrec the Guilty.

That final blast rang out before giving way to tense silence, effectively signalling the end of that brief but bloody battle.

The thought of celebrating didn't even cross Bobs mind. The instant he could will his body to move he sprinted over in the direction Solaire had been thrown. He felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when he saw that Solaire was already on his feet, albeit with Stacy propping him up over her shoulder despite her own injuries.

'Sol! You ok?'

'Of course, Young Bob. The crest on my armor is not just for show. But I do require a moment of rest.'

Bob couldn't agree more. 'Yeah. We all need a bit of a sit down.'

'Ms Arcadia…' Stacy asked the woman as she approached them. 'Is there a bonfire nearby? I don't really feel up to waltzing all the way back to the one you were at…'

'There is one very close, up a mechanized platform on the far end. Take one of them upwards and there should be a flame you may recuperate at.'

Stacy said her thanks and tried to shift awkwardly with Solaire's added weight. In the short time Bob had taken his eyes off her, Priscilla had swooped in unseen and scooped up both Solaire and Stacy in her free arm; cradling them softly.

'Let me lend some assistance. I do not have any injuries of my own.'

Solaire seemed happy enough and relaxed in the large woman's arm. Stacy, on the other hand, stiffened up like a plank of wood and blushed a bright crimson at the contact.

A dull creak of armor drew Bob's gaze away from the Priscilla express. The Chosen Undead was dragging himself up from the small crater that he'd been pummelled into. His movements were laboured and shaky, so Bob didn't hesitate to approach him before the bastard could properly pick himself up. Arcadia was roving towards him from a different angle, bearing down on the Chosen with a threatening hand on her sheathed sword.

Chosen saw them both approaching and propped up on his shoulders, surveying them both with a smug and careless shrug as if saying _"Yeah, you got me. Do your worst." _

Bob's hatred for that man couldn't have been any more intense at that point. Sure in the past he'd quickly gathered that the Chosen was a mute, sociopathic, kleptomaniac without a speck of dignity or honour, but he'd never actively tried to murder them all the way he'd just done. The fact that he'd almost succeeded made it all the worse.

But even with all that, Bob still couldn't bring himself to try and kill him. He could fight to defend himself and his friends, but executing a human opponent who was beaten wasn't something he had the gall for.

Arcadia didn't share his reserve and drew her blade before pointing it dangerously close to the Chosen's neck.

'Chosen. You poison this hallowed place with your sins. Were it not for the prophecy I would cut you down were you lie.'

She drew back her sword but kept it at the ready. Chosen gave her another bored and careless glance and got to his feet, turning his attention back to Bob.

A hoarse grunt was all he offered before he closed his hand over a Homeward Bone and disappeared in a twisting circle of light.

They were finally safe. Bob heaved an exhausted sigh as his heart-rate steadied slowly and that growing burn of adrenaline in his veins mercifully drifted away. He realized that unfortunately, that'd been the only thing keeping him on his feet. The floor was already rushing towards his face as he nose-dived. He didn't have much time to ask himself why he felt compelled to pull out the Praise the Sun gesture the whole way down.

=][=

Bob was slipping in and out of consciousness for a good while. He wasn't dying, but his body was so depleted that it prevented him from moving at all. Voices and faces swam in and out of view, and he could see and feel the welcoming glow from a bonfire near him. He realized how he'd never truly appreciated just what a lifesaver those things were. Every ache, cut and dull sting of pain just flickered away in the glow of that unnatural orange light. Even after he was sure all his injuries had healed, Bob continued to lay there with a warm and fuzzy pillow under his head. How long had it been since he'd really rested like that?

And so he half-slept, still vaguely aware of all the movement around him. It all played out like some slideshow that jumped around with a will of its own.

There was Stacy, splayed out on the floor next to him, her mouth ajar and retching out the most horrific snores he'd ever heard.

Solaire moved back and forth. Sometimes he'd be idly chatting to Stacy, or Arcadia, but would occasionally appear to stare off into the bonfire; lost in his own world.

Dark Sun Gwyndolin appeared once, making a hell of a racket with her amplified voice. Bob couldn't quite understand what she was saying, but he gathered the basic gist of it was how pissed she was at the ungodly mess the place was in. Arcadia managed to calm her down enough to leave them in peace and quiet, saying something about the destruction being mostly the Chosen Undead's fault.

Time zipped by for a while, but not once did Anor Londo go dark. Part of its strange power, most likely. But no less annoying for someone who just wanted to sleep.

Arcadia came and went several times more, talking to Solaire mostly. Bob picked up a few displaced words.

'The Princess of Sunlight, Gwynevere, lies beyond that door. None but Master Gwyndolin and the Chosen Undead are permitted to enter.'

'The door is closed. Does that mean the Chosen hasn't met with the Princess?'

'It seems that way. It is quite troubling. He was meant to receive the Lordvessel and continue the journey, but it either escaped his attention or was avoided purposefully.'

'What does this mean, Lady Arcadia?'

Bob drifted away again, absently recalling all the mayhem and danger involved in the journey to reach Anor Londo. And how many times Solaire had saved his life. What would have happened if he and Stacy had just decided to sit at Firelink along with that mopey warrior; doing nothing but playing that insane card game they'd invented. Would the Chosen just complete his vague quest to Link the Fires?

He saw flashes of that smug bastard killing everything in sight and looting treasure in a manner that only a crazed maniac with OCD could. What would have happened if Chosen had come upon Quelaag and her sister before them? Knowing his nature, Bob was sure they'd both probably be dead. And Priscilla too. If he'd wandered into the painting like they had, would he have tried to cut her down for a bunch of tainted souls? Bob involuntarily shuddered at a vision of Chosen slicing Priscilla's tail off with a cowardly sneak attack.

Something else that bothered Bob was what was going to follow if Chosen managed to Link the Fires. The legends went that the Chosen was the successor to Lord Gwyn, and by linking the fires, would effectively take his place. What kind of place would Lordran be with such a sadistic, mute psycho as their new Lord?

That burning hatred shifted Bob back into proper consciousness. Sure enough, he was lying sideways on the floor with a bonfire crackling away close by. Though he was completely healed by that point, he was still a little stiff, so Bob just nuzzled his face into the pillow; relishing its comfort one last time before he had to get up and move.

The pillow twitched. Bob's eyes opened fully and snapped to Priscilla looking down at him from an angle to his back. Sure enough, the pillow was connected to her. And it wasn't a pillow. But it was fuzzy as hell.

Bob shot up from the floor, already feeling his face burning with embarrassment. Stacy shrieked at his sudden movement but collected herself quickly, shuffling over to him from the other side of the bonfire she'd been sitting at.

'Woah! You're awake. Had a nice sleep did you?' She chided with a sly grin. 'Good thing you were out of it, or I would've never let you hog Priscilla to yourself like that.'

'I'm happy to see you well.' Priscilla smiled with a gentle swish of her tail.

'Thanks. How long was I out?'

'About a day and half.' Stacy shrugged as she continued to shuffle around the bonfire, edging closer and closer to Priscilla's tail from the opposite side Bob was. 'You're such a lightweight. Nobody else passed out like that.'

'Yeah, I appreciate the feedback.' Bob grumbled sarcastically. He watched, highly amused, as Stacy tried to grab Priscilla's tail from outside the Crossbreed's field of vision. As soon as she tried to leap at it, Priscilla just lazily whipped it away from Stacy's reach.

'Hey! Come on! I-I just tripped!'

Priscilla stifled a small giggle. Bob had never heard her laugh like that, if at all. Watching her smile and calmly listen to Stacy's pouting excuses, Bob felt his own sullen face crack a grin.

'Young Bob. Praise the Sun you've awakened.'

But it was that voice that really put Bob's reservations aside. He hopped to his feet and greeted Solaire with a strong forearm shake.

'Sol. Man am I glad to see you. You really are fucking indestructible.'

Solaire shrugged sheepishly. 'Haha, oh please. Your compliments are as kind as they are baffling in their dialect.'

Bob sat down as Solaire did, effectively reuniting their little group since the last fight. Solaire brought Bob up to speed on what had happened in the time he'd been unconscious. Gwyndolin, on Arcadia's stern insistence, agreed to have her minions stand down from attacking them for the time being. The Chosen Undead hadn't appeared but they'd been warned that he was definitely expected to return and claim something from the room up the short set of steps near the bonfire.

'Seriously? If he shows up again we're just supposed to let him waltz into that room and get some treasure?' Stacy asked ludicrously. 'What exactly is he after?'

'Lady Arcadia speaks of a Lordvessel. An item that the Chosen Undead must acquire to complete the prophecy.'

'But Chosen was here not too long ago.' Bob cut in. 'Why didn't he take this Lordvessel thing? If it's part of the prophecy why would he leave it?'

'There is something else that troubles me so…' Priscilla spoke up. 'It seemed the Chosen Undead was waiting for us. Perhaps he was trying to keep us from that room?'

Bob weighed that in his mind for a moment and he just had to ask: 'Hasn't anyone tried going in there yet?'

Everyone shared a curious glance at Bob's innocent question.

'Well…' Solaire started cautiously, scanning the immediate area for a moment before lowering his voice. 'Gwyndolin was most adamant that we cannot gain access even if we attempted to do so, but Lady Priscilla recently told me that there is no magic preventing entry for others beside the Chosen Undead.'

'Soo…basically we can't go in there because Gwyndolin says so.'

'Well, she was nice enough to keep her goons off of us.' Stacy replied, slumping lazily on her shoulders. 'We really shouldn't go snooping around. Don't want to over-stay our welcome and all that.'

Everyone quieted down for a few minutes. Bob looked to each of them to try and glean a hint of what they were thinking. But he didn't need sorcery to see they were thinking the same thing as him. After all, they'd come so far. They at least deserved a look behind that door.

As if on cue, Arcadia arrived by way of the circular elevator shaft on the left of the balcony. There was something about her rapid pace that made Bob uneasy.

'Heya. No Gwyndolin express today?' Stacy chirped when Arcadia stood close by. 'Does she charge every time or something?'

The Firekeeper was tense and pensive. It was clear that she hadn't come for an idle chat.

'Two things.' She started slowly, pausing to make sure everyone was paying attention; the flames from the bonfire reflected in her polished bronze armor. 'Firstly, Master Gwyndolin has given you all permission to meet with the Princess. There are…situations developing.'

'What do you mean, Lady Arcadia?' Solaire asked as he stood.

'I do not know the full details as of yet, but I would advise you all to not rest on your laurels. Be ready for anything. And secondly—'

Their group waited with bated breath for further details.

'—Master Gwyndolin is a man.'

Arcadia then turned on her heel and sauntered off back towards the elevator, leaving them in stunned silence.

Stacy was the first to speak.

'A trap, huh? Well, not like that really changes things. And-!' Stacy excitedly jumped to her feet and pointed towards the large double doors. '—I think it's time to check out what's behind that bloody door already.'

'Right. Let's hope this Princess can shed some light on what we're supposed to do next.' Bob replied, filled with renewed vigour.

'Lead the way, Fair Stacy.'

Priscilla just smiled softly as she moved in beside them.

'Hang on—' Stacy paused for a moment, looking at something on the floor near the first step of the staircase. 'There's an orange message here…'

'Oh, what does it say?' Solaire asked curiously.

Stacy turned back to them with a devilish toothy grin.

'Amazing Chest Ahead.'


	12. Darkmoon Blade

_Queen's Notice Board: AIIIE! Must update faster. I owe it to all you awesome reviewers._

**DARK(ish) SOULS**

'"Amazing Chest?" Fucking smartasses!' Stacy growled shortly after entering Gwynevere's chamber. The Princess of Sunlight definitely did not disappoint in Bob's eyes. She was gigantic, filling up the entire length of the room as she lay sideways tranquilly on a bed of sorts. Beams of sunlight illuminated the area behind her, framing her huge appearance with a gorgeous and welcoming glow. Coupled with her immaculate beauty and a look of pure love and understanding in her serene face, Bob had no doubts that Gwynevere was indeed a goddess taken form.

But even then, meeting a celestial being still couldn't distract Bob from gawking at her incredible cleavage.

'Welcome, my children. I am Gwynevere, Princess of Sunlight.' She introduced sweetly, but strangely didn't move her lips when she spoke. Her voice seemed projected and magnified by the entire room no less. 'Thou hast journeyed far and overcome much. Come hither my children…'

Bob's feet moved on their own, guiding him closer to her as if possessed.

'Hey!' Stacy jabbed Solaire with her elbow as they walked, glaring at him critically. 'What's with those roving eyes, Sol?'

'Oh my, forgive me Fair Stacy. The Princess of Sunlight's impressive bosom is quite a sight to behold.'

Stacy face palmed at that response. '…Sometimes I wish you'd lie every now and then…'

Bob tore his gaze away from Gwynevere for a second to look at his squabbling friends, but he quickly diverted his eyes to Priscilla instead as the Crossbreed made a beeline towards the Princess.

'Huh? Priscilla?' Bob called out to her as she'd already reached the carpet draped just across from Gwynevere's couch and stared up at her quietly.

Soon, they'd all reached the carpet Priscilla was on. Solaire knelt down respectfully, with Bob and Stacy following suit. Priscilla stood her ground, an actual frown marring her placid gaze; jade eyes unblinking and piercing.

Gwynevere didn't seem to care and addressed them all shortly after.

'Fate has shifted thus. The Chosen Undead has refused the Lordvessel, and with it his place in history. As such, it has fallen on me to name a new successor…'

Bob held his breath, relishing the idea of receiving whatever sacred treasure the Chosen was meant to have. Stacy beside him didn't seem to be paying attention, instead scowling at Solaire suspiciously. Solaire himself listened intently, but sure enough Bob noticed his gaze dip lower every few seconds.

'I, Gwynevere the Princess of Sunlight, have come to a decision. The new successor to Lord Gwyn, the one to rekindle the First Flame and become the new Lord of Sunlight…'

A tense silence stretched out as Gwynevere paused unnecessarily. Were all the Gods so needlessly dramatic?

Gwynevere finally spoke.

'Is none of you.'

Those simple words sunk in and seemed to drain the very colour from the room. Bob and Stacy looked to each other, confused and worried. Gwynevere continued to speak, robbing them the chance to argue for that time being.

'The Chosen Undead must link the Fires. Whether it be his will or not. I will let you all take the Lordvessel, and in turn seek out the souls that will fill it. But it has now become your duty to find the Chosen Undead as well and purge his soul into the Lordvessel with the others.'

'You're joking.' Stacy gaped getting to her feet in protest.

'The Chosen's Soul is enough to reignite the First Flame. The Lord Souls before it will open the way to the Kiln where it is located.'

Bob had to interject then. 'So let me get this straight. We find the these Lord Souls for the Lordvessel, then track down the Chosen and take his soul. After all the bullshit that son of a bitch has done we have to basically complete the prophecy ourselves and help him ascend to Gwyn's throne? Do you have any clue what we've been through getting here, only to hear something like this?'

'It is, as my compatriot put it, bullshit indeed.' Solaire agreed.

Gwynevere didn't appear to care at all what they had to say and continued speaking.

'When the Chosen's soul merges with the first flame, the Age of Fire will continue, and with it humanity will be at peace. There is no choice in this matter. The prophecy must come to pass.'

'Shove your prophecy up your ass!' Stacy yelled hotly. She was growing more and more agitated at her inability to get some kind of response out of the goddess, who persisted at laying there with that lethargic and stoned look on her face.

Bob thought for a bit on their next move. Did gathering the Lord Souls and the Chosen's really have any benefit for them? What was the point of helping him ascend to the throne? Gwynevere had confirmed his suspicions about the Chosen willingly refusing the Lordvessel, but what the hell was to gain from that? Did the Chosen know something about the Prophecy that they didn't?

Bob's head started to pound at all the overlapping questions. It put a dampen on his mood now that he wasn't too sure what they were supposed to be doing. He decided that he would try and glean some answers from Gwynevere while he had the chance.

'Uh, Princess. I have a question.'

Gwynevere stared off into space, ignoring him completely. Bob thought she was pausing dramatically again, but almost a minute passed without the slightest response from the giant goddess.

'Excuse me, Princess of Sunlight!' Bob tried again, louder this time. The lack of any sort of eye contact was incredibly annoying and rude. Even goddesses should have time for some bloody manners, Bob grumbled to himself. 'I need to know something! Why would the Chosen refuse the Lordvessel? There has to be something people aren't telling us about linking the Fires!'

Gwynevere seemed to be responding somehow when she reached behind her back and pulled out a dull-gold bowl the size of a bathtub, before placing it at their feet, still not uttering a single word after her speech.

'Are those funbags draining the blood from your brain? Say something will you!' Stacy yelled rudely. 'And don't tell us that stupid bowl is the Lordvessel. Couldn't you have put some wheels on it or something, or you know, not have it be _fucking huge?!' _

Still nothing. It'd passed the barrier of simple ignorance by that point. It was more like Gwynevere _couldn't _respond.

'Let it go, Stace.' Bob tried to calm his still-fuming cohort. He looked to Priscilla then, his curiosity growing as to why she'd been glaring at Gwynevere wordlessly the entire time they'd been in that room.

'Priscilla, what's going on?'

She turned to him, looking down with a concerned and puzzled look.

'Tis an illusion.' She answered flatly.

Everyone digested those particular words for a few moments, looking to one another in disbelief. Then, as one, stared at the still-mute form of Gwynevere, her distant and blank smile suddenly more than a little uncanny.

'What? You sure about that?' Stacy gawked in disbelief. She pulled a face as her eyes squinted at the goddess, trying to see whatever it was Priscilla had picked up on. '…She looks so real.'

'It is a powerful illusion. It's physical presence is all too real, but the form is empty. A husk masquerading as a goddess.'

'How…disturbing.' Solaire grumbled as he turned away, eyes downcast. 'What is the point of such a conjuration? Does Dark Sun Gwyndolin aim to deceive us?'

'Looks that way.' Bob replied. Things were getting more confusing by the second and it was clear Gwynevere was done talking. She'd probably been set to say her scripted lines and not actually answer anything, hence turning into a wall once she was done talking.

Priscilla's word was enough to convince them that Gwynevere was an illusion, but to really hammer the point home, the Crossbreed starting prodding the fake goddess in the face with the handle of her scythe, who naturally didn't react as her facial features were temporarily rearranged.

'Well that settles it.' Stacy snorted a laugh. 'So what the hell do we do now?'

Bob had no answer, no plan to speak of. It didn't help that Priscilla's face prodding was so damn distracting as it was amusing to watch.

Solaire moved to the Lordvessel as Bob was still deliberating in his mind, and watched as Solaire picked the damn thing up with one hand. The Lordvessel proved to be more than an ordinary bathtub, and actually shrunk in size as Solaire held it, eventually turning into a cup that fit in the palm of his hand.

Solaire laughed as he pocketed the thing in his satchel. 'Well, that is one less problem to fret over!' He said cheerfully.

Priscilla seemed to have had enough fun with her scythe poking and got everyone's attention with a curtly raised palm.

'I believe I know what our next course of action should be.' She said softly, looking to them all with a serious and lingering gaze. Bob was hypnotized by her already. It was a weird picture he was seeing as Priscilla continued to speak. Though she was much smaller than Gwynevere at her back, her more gentle white glow and serenely expressive eyes utterly put the fake goddess to shame.

'Gwyndolin. We must speak to Gwyndolin. I suspected something was amiss about that being, but this illusion of his sister proves he has some dark secrets. This so-called prophecy, this Lost City, that wretched painting—' A miniscule sneer formed at the edge of her lips when she said that part. '-the truth about it all rests with that deceitful God.'

'Hey yeah. That cross-dressing weirdo's probably got the answers we need.' Stacy agreed fervently.

They started moving back to the bonfire outside the room as they spoke.

'This is probably the best course we can take. We should seek out Lady Arcadia as to her masters whereabouts.' Solaire added.

'Why do you seek an audience with Master Gwyndolin?'

The group stopped just shy of the stairs in front of the bonfire. Arcadia had been waiting for them in her trademark pose off to the right.

When nobody answered right away, Bob decided to take some initiative and test out his negotiation skills.

'Ms Arcadia, there's a few things we need to ask he-him. About the prophecy, and why he saw fit to try and trick us with that illusion of Gwynevere.'

His remark was blunt and to the point. He'd hoped it'd catch the woman off-guard and reveal a motive, but it proved to be a futile when Arcadia hardly reacted.

'Oh?' Was all she said.

'Arcadia I implore you…' Solaire tried stepping up to the plate. 'We only seek to know the truth, nothing more. Whatever reason your master had for these conjurations, we shall see it in our glowing hearts to forgive and forget.'

'The truth, you say. Well, that is precisely why I awaited all of you here.'

She shifted off the wall and began pacing slowly as she spoke carefully.

'Master Gwyndolin did not expect you to fall for the illusion. In fact, he counted on you all to see through it. You had "her" with you after all.'

Arcadia jutted her chin at Priscilla, who just raised a white eyebrow curiously.

'I am not one to waste time, so I'll state it simply. Gwyndolin created that figure of his dear sister to trick the Chosen Undead and no one else. Whilst the prophecy states that the Chosen Undead is fated to link the fires and succeed Lord Gwyn to continue the Age of Fire, there is an important detail left out of the scriptures.'

Arcadia stopped pacing and regarded them all coldly.

'Inheriting the Flame of this world is tantamount to ultimate sacrifice. Fated to act as the kindle of the First Flame to continue the Age of Fire for another thousand years, until another Chosen must take his place.'

Stacy gaped at that and managed to come to a conclusion in her mind. 'So that's why the Chosen bastard didn't take the Lordvessel…and tried to kill us. He must've thought we'd take it and come after him next…'

Bob had to ask the most burning question in his throat.

'What happens if the First Flame isn't re-kindled?'

Arcadia chuckled at that. A cold, and mirthless laugh.

'When the First Flame is extinguished, the Chosen Undead will usher in the Age of Dark. He will ascend as a Dark Overlord and smother Lordran and eventually the entire world in utter darkness. Everything as we know it will cease to be. '

The group fell into silence again. Until Bob had to blurt out something obvious.

'Hang on a second. If taking his soul is so important, then why the hell did you let him go?'

Arcadia stared at him unfazed and stoic. Something about her made it possible to communicate her emotions through sheer force of will. In that moment, she was effectively saying: _You're one to talk. You couldn't bring yourself to cut him down when you had the chance._

'There is a reason for that. In order to acquire his soul, the Chosen must be burned within the Lordvessel on the Night of the Darkmoon.'

Stacy heaved an exasperated sigh at that. 'Why is this getting so complicated? What the hell is the Night of the Darkmoon?'

'Two days. In two days Anor Londo will fall into darkness. That is when the Chosen must be killed.'

'How the fuck are we supposed to find him in two bloody days?'

'He will come to us. And he will not be alone. On the that Night, is the only time the Lordvessel can be destroyed.'

Solaire stepped towards her. Maybe it was Bob's imagination, but it was his presence specifically that caused any kind of stir in the woman, albeit a miniscule one.

'Lady Arcadia. What do you mean?'

Gwyndolin took that opportunity to make his grand entrance; phasing into existence within a golden orb of light next to his most loyal servant.

Bob immediately noticed something was different about him. For starters, his mask was missing, revealing his doll-like face for everyone to see. His once immaculate robes were significantly torn and dirtied in places as well. But it was the expression he wore that really dipped the air in cold silence.

Dark Sun Gwyndolin was _pissed_. He was baring his pearl-white teeth in a menacing snarl that only served to accentuate the acidic death glare his ruby red eyes were locked in.

'Master Gwyndolin!' Arcadia yelped out in alarm, reaching for her superiors arm in sudden concern. Gwyndolin shrugged her off coldly, hissing out his next words in chilling, calculated hate.

'That Heretic. He's joined the Four Kings. Became that which is most unclean. A Darkwraith. But not just them, all the Lords have sided with him. He's promised them all a share of power when the Age of Dark begins. They will seek to destroy the Lordvessel on the Night of the Darkmoon, hastening the coming of darkness. The Four Kings and their Darkwraiths. Nito and his Gravelords. Seath the Immortal…and THAT…' Gwyndolin retched and spat out a gob of _something_, it shone blue and splattered into the ground, tunnelling a little smoking hole. '…THAT BED of CHAOS!'

Gwyndolin seethed uncontrollably, shaking with trembling fury from head to tentacles. Arcadia spoke on behalf of her unhinged master.

'Like I said, two days. Anor Londo will go dark. And the Chosen will return…' She stiffened, clenching her gloved hands in dull frustration. '…with an entire army no less.'

Bob was close to breaking point, if he hadn't been already. How much worse could things get for them? Just what the hell could they do now that they knew the truth?

Gwyndolin and Arcadia kind of hovered away as Bob thought, bickering away at each other.

'Those bastards! Firing that homing purple energy at ME! I'll show them what a true barrage of magic is…!'

'Master, please calm yourself.'

When Arcadia and Gwyndolin were out of earshot, Bob's little group shifted towards the bonfire again in a kind of stifled uncomfortable hush.

They all sat down at each corner and watched the flames flicker away, everyone struggling in their own way to say something constructive.

Stacy broke the silence with a poignant remark.

'Well, this fucking sucks. Chosen's gonna show up here with an Army of Darkness and destroy everything. Even if we ran away, everyone is screwed. Why can't anything ever be simple in this stupid little world…?!'

'The Immortal Seath the Scaleless. Gravelord Nito. The Bed of Chaos. The Four Kings of New Londo.' Solaire sounded off the names grimly, counting each of them with a raised finger. 'It almost appears too logical. Rather than simply wait for each of them to be defeated one at a time, they've opted instead to band together and destroy the only thing that could open the way to the Kiln of the First Flame.'

Priscilla wasn't saying anything. In fact, she didn't even look the least bit worried. She just sat there resting her chin on her knees; her eyes so wistfully closed like she'd fallen into a deep sleep.

Bob felt something strange inside of him. It was his gut telling him that it was one of those times that separated men from cowards. If he clammed up and stayed quiet like he normally did, things were only going to get worse. He was sick and tired of just letting that crazy, fucked-up world pulling him along with a choke-leash. Just like that time when he and Stacy had fought to the top of the Parish in a blind stupendous onslaught, he kindled the fire in his gut to smouldering. It was time to stop being next to useless.

'Allright!' He yelled as he stomped to his feet. The sane, realistic buzz kill part of his mind face palmed and whispered to him to shut up and sit down, but was quickly floored with the mental haymaker of crazed momentum. 'The Chosen and his stupid little army are coming here in two days. That's two days to prepare the most nose-shattering, kneecap-snapping, pants-shittingly indestructible defence Lordran has ever seen!'

Everyone was a little shocked at his outburst. Solaire quickly beamed happily at him, smiling wide with his eyes alone. Priscilla perked up, lifting her chin off her knees a little and fixing him with a bemused stare. Stacy looked a little worried at first, pulling an ugly scowl, but her face quickly lit up in exhilaration when she realized what he was going through.

'I've got a plan you wouldn't believe!' He lied. 'First…'

=][=

Anor Londo was in a state of controlled insanity. Every room, every corridor was abuzz with movement and activity. Armored giants lumbered back and forth, holding stacks of swords, spears, and bundles upon bundles of Dragonslayer Arrows. Silver Knights jostled in every direction, communicating entire battle strategies with metallic grunts. They bounded up stairs with equipment, flashed their silver swords and spears in friendly sparring, and tested their massive bows with tugs of their thick wires until their arms shook.

Back up at the Command Centre, or the bonfire outside the fake goddess' chamber. Gwyndolin and Stacy were in the thick of a battle of wills.

'Hah! I'll move my Seath into diagonal attack vector with my Crystal of Immortality Arch Magic card in quad reserve. Your pathetic mortal clam phalanx will crumble before me!'

Sure enough, Stacy's complete collection of Lordran Oh Battle Masters cards were in full use atop a stone slate; a leftover from one of the columns in the room below them. Stacy herself sat calm at one end of the slate; legs and arms crossed in a sage-like stillness that defied her normally furious demeanour. Gwyndolin was probably enjoying the game _too_ much. Every turn he got was greeted with overzealous hand gestures and loud proclamations of superiority over mortals.

'Hm.' Stacy muttered simply as her Killer Clams were destroyed by Seath's Crystal Beam in one fell swoop. 'You seem pretty sure of yourself there, Gwynie.'

'Do not call me that.' The Dark Sun God spat distastefully, but didn't lose his pompous grin. 'You only serve to hasten your imminent destruction. Now, hurry and make your next feeble move so you'll trip my Bed's unblockable Crumbling Floors glyph snare trap.'

Something wicked sparked in Stacy's eyes as she peered out from under the cowl of her hood. Gwyndolin did his best to hide his shock that a mere human could look so unnerving.

'Aren't you forgetting something, Gwynie?' She grinned evilly, twisting her lips into a cruel smirk as she raised a card up from her desk, displaying its wealth of confusing information to the God before her.

'You set off my own glyph snare. Because you used three-and-a-half attack crystals from your boost cloister, that means the effect of my Collateral Damage card is tripled.'

Gwyndolin reeled back in overdramatic shock.

'You don't mean-!'

His most powerful attack became the source of his destruction. His no-eyes white Seath had unknowingly cleaved its beam attack through its own Crystal of Immortality, rendering it completely vulnerable.

'To follow up, I'll attack with my Prince Ricard NG+7, and add three Green Blossom augment buff cards, as well as the Sunlight Blade Miracle I've been saving on my Alpha Deck Crossroad that you so graciously ignored for the whole game.'

'Curses! How can a mortal best a god in a game of wits?!' Gwyndolin roared in frustration.

The rest of the match went much the same way. For every unstoppable brute force tactic that the Master of the Darkmoon tried, the tiny foul-mouthed human would reverse the odds in her favour with some brilliant manoeuvre that infuriated as much as humbled him in its perfection.

Finally, Dark Sun Gwyndolin was defeated. He sat in stunned disbelief in front of the stone slate, his supposedly-unbeatable cards scattered about him like the remains of a shattered blade.

'Impossible…how…?'

Stacy was already there, offering her hand to him with her most winning smile. The God had never felt so small then, to be so utterly defeated. But he felt a powerful emotion he hadn't felt in a long time since he had first recruited Arcadia.

Trust.

'So, I guess this means you'll follow my battle strategy.' She said, still offering her hand.

Gwyndolin swallowed his pride and raised himself off the floor with his tentacles, but took her hand more as a show of respect than anything.

'You are formidable, human.' Gwyndolin remarked humbly. 'As per our agreement, I will heed your words when it comes to the upcoming battle.'

'Nice. Thanks Gwynie.'

Gwyndolin's eyebrow twitched at that degrading nickname. 'I will ask you again not to refer to me that way.'

'What? But it sounds so cute!'

Something about that word gave Gwyndolin great pause.

'…Truly?'

'Fuck yeah. Just roll with it.'

=][=

'Young Bob. I have never seen you shine so bright! It would be my honour to go along with this most flimsy plan of yours!'

'Ah, thanks. I think…'

Solaire and Bob had made a beeline towards the Anor Londo blacksmith, dodging all manner of Silver Knights rushing about. Bob absently noticed the capes they were sporting, and quickly concluded that asking for a set of the armour was pointless.

Solaire needed to reinforce his own weapons, and was lucky that the Silver Knights let himself and Bob cut in line to get their armaments looked at first.

'Who are you? Forge your weapons?' The Giant Blacksmith greeted simply, tinkering his hammer into a nondescript weapon with surprising finesse and dexterity.

Solaire handed the giant his sword and shield, which were reinforced as high as they could go in only a few seconds.

It was Bob's turn then. He needed a new weapon after his own was destroyed. He had no real expertise in any close combat weapon, but found it hard to pick what exactly to forge for himself. Another Longsword? Well it was dependable, but so…ordinary.

'Young Bob, if I could make a suggestion.' Solaire cut in when Bob couldn't make up his mind. It probably also had to do with the increasing size of the queue of Silver Knights forming along the balcony. They peered at him and even offered annoyed grunts and impatient shrugs at his tardiness.

'Of course, Sol. Which weapon d'you think would work best?'

Solaire quickly plucked one from the stands and handed it to Bob, who stared at the weapon in question with a chuckle of disbelief.

'You serious?'

Solaire placed a firm hand on Bob's shoulder.

'Do not think I did not bear witness to that Astoran Piledriver you felled the Chosen Undead with. The spirit of the wrestler shines within you as it does inside myself, perhaps even brighter.'

Bob was surprised. Now that he dwelled on it a bit, piledriving Chosen into the ground had felt more like a reflex than a crazed stroke of luck. With this thought in mind he slipped his hands into the pair of iron Caeustus, already relishing how natural the weapons felt.

'Yeah, this'll work.' He grinned confidently.

'Excellent. Now, let me teach you what I know about Astoran Martial Arts while we have time.'

'Oh, hell yeah!'

=][=

'What exactly was your companion's plan?' Arcadia asked sceptically as a litter of those mindless Painting Guardians scurried about Priscilla's feet like excited white puppies. As everyone was busy preparing, Arcadia chose to follow the Crossbreed as she returned to the Painting Chamber from whence she'd came.

Priscilla ignored the Darkmoon coldly. Arcadia didn't exactly blame her, after all she'd played a role in keeping her imprisoned in that Painted World. They weren't exactly enemies, but the Crossbreed and her notorious Lifehunt ability, of even which the Old Gods feared, was reason enough to keep a wary eye on her.

The Painting with its icy landscape stretched out in front of them. Priscilla raised her free hand towards it and closed her eyes, furrowing her brow in concentration. One of the Guardians scampered around on all fours and sniffed her tail curiously, and was instantly whipped in the face hard enough to catapult it the entire length of the room.

'Just what are you doing?' Arcadia asked her firmly.

Priscilla answered her with a simple word.

'Behold.'

Like clockwork a _stream_ of creatures poured out of the painting and spilled out in every direction in a wave of overly-excited undead chatter. Thirty or so assorted hollows with torches and broken swords. Ten gangly Crow Demons cawing and flitting about. A dozen or so Wheel Skeletons tearing it up. And the exiled King Jeremiah and his ridiculous head scarf, shortly followed by a greatsword-wielding Berenike Knight.

The gaggle of creatures ran about in a mindless panic until Priscilla slammed the hilt of her scythe into the ground. Everything froze at the sharp, echoing sound and waited in obedient silence. Priscilla surveyed her subjects with a warm openhearted smile.

'Anor Londo is doomed. Win or Lose.' Arcadia muttered darkly as she watched one of the mutated hollows accidently set itself on fire with its own torch, causing its nearby brethren to scatter screaming.

=][=

_Queen's Notice Board: Sorry to end this chapter a little abruptly. But I thought I should get it out before I go away for a few days. Love~!_


	13. Sunlight Shield

_Queens Notice Board: This is for all you guys. I can't stress enough how important all of you are to this fics development. Without all the kind words, all the wonderful encouragement, this little ol fic of mine would be nothing. And as the end looms, I'd just like to say I Bloody Love the Lot of You. _

**DARKISH SOULS**

Bob had never taken part in a full-scale battle before. Hell, he'd never even _seen _one outside of a book. The closest he got to any sort of battlefield action where when a few squads of Vinheim Paladins rolled into his hometown on their way to some campaign on the other end of the continent. They didn't stay long, as the biggest accommodation in Kerns was a stable with half a roof. Not to the mention the ever-present smell of mud and filth probably had something to do with them not sticking around.

Kerns was a stupid, boring, dull place. And in being so, had the eternal protection from the rest of the world simply not giving a fuck. Every time a war broke out or some new monster decided to stomp on a few buildings, Kerns wasn't given so much as a backwards glance of attention.

Bob knew that Kerns was special in its own depressing and non-committal way. And he recalled taking much comfort in that safe little mud-stained bubble that he called home. But after the recent string of events he'd witnessed, there was no fucking way he wanted to go back to that life. So what if he'd almost died countless times? Whether by monsters or his own inept stupidity. The things he'd seen, but more importantly, the people he'd met had changed him more than he ever thought possible.

He was watching the forces of Anor Londo move about with mechanical precision through the various halls and walkways from the upper passage outside the staircase leading to the Giant Blacksmith's room. Things were settling down a bit, as much of the preparations had been completed. Reinforcements were still trickling in every few minutes. Most of them varied wanderers and warriors who shimmered into being within the main hall as dark blue phantoms. Gwyndolin had explained that they too were Darkmoons as Arcadia was, but existed on parallel dimensions and so had to travel there using a covenant item which only worked when connected to some vague network of magic that was beyond Bob's understanding. Every new warrior that appeared eased the dull fear in his heart bit by bit, but what utterly vanquished it was the appearance of one particular man.

'Tarkus!' Bob screamed shrilly as the aforementioned warrior casually waltzed in through the front door of the main hall. He glanced upwards at Bob at the yell of his name and stared at him silently. The Silver Knights and Giants paid no attention to him, which according to Gwyndolin meant that he came in peace. Bob was already barrelling down the stairs, cutting past several people, until he was face-to-face with him once again.

'Tarkus!' He yelled again, unsure of why he felt compelled to shout the name out. 'You're alive! How the hell—never mind! Man, am I glad to see you up and about.'

The Black Iron Knight shrugged at that and said nothing, but might as well have communicated a triumphant tale of survival. Somehow, Bob got the gist of it. He'd been a phantom when he'd sided with Chosen, probably against his will. But because of the length of time that had passed since the defeat of the Iron Golem, his summon sign had disappeared for good.

'So…does this mean you're here to help?' Bob asked hopefully, but still felt stupid asking such a thing. Why else would he be there?

Tarkus creaked his helmet to the side. Again, Bob was befuddled how he understood the man's body language so eloquently. Was that some unique skill Tarkus had learned at some point during his storied, badass career?

Whatever the case, Tarkus simply communicated: "Sure."

=][=

Far away from all the commotion, Stacy sat alone in the cramped bonfire room that she'd met Arcadia in. Her cards were arrayed neatly in front of her as she sat quietly, and though her eyes were focused on the battle lines of Silver Knights and Sentinels, her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

She pouted and grinded her teeth, shifting her card formations back and forth, but wasn't satisfied no matter what order they were in. Eventually, she gave up whatever strategy she was concocting and resigned herself to staring into the flames.

'You're losing focus.' A familiar, calm voice broke the silence. Stacy almost peed herself where she sat, but used every scrap of self-control she had to sit still gruffly, pretending Arcadia hadn't gotten the drop on her so easily.

'F-focus? Urgh. How can I focus when I have a small heart attack every time the sky starts to dim?'

Arcadia shifted off the wall she was accustomed to resting against, and sat herself down unceremoniously next to Stacy, her frame wilting somewhat as she too was lost in the flicker of the bonfire she'd been keeping for such a long time.

'I am not doubting that the coming battle is what is troubling you, but there's something deeper in your soul that gnaws away at your humanity little-by-little.'

Stacy shot a darkened glare at the other woman; a snarky comment already locked and loaded in her voice box, but it withered to dust under Arcadia's firm glare. What was it about the fancy helmets that people in Lordran sported that had such a distinctive, almost uncanny ability to project emotion without so much as a peep at their face?

Stacy was already losing her cool, and instead shot back with a childish remark.

'What're you talking about…?'

Arcadia didn't turn away. That impenetrable dark slit in her helm got the better of Stacy a few seconds later and she instinctively turned away.

'Take it from my own experience, Stacy of Kerns…'

The way her voice had suddenly shifted from her normally ice-cold stoicism to shaky and laden with past regret caught Stacy off-guard completely. She looked back to her, but this time, Arcadia had turned away, her own gaze taking sanctuary in the flames. She continued to speak in that same melancholic and stifling tone.

'Do not simply sit by and watch the one you love. Fate is cruel, and will do everything in its power to punish inaction. Do not be content with staying at his side, either. Your longing and wounds will only grow deeper to the point that not even the twisting maelstrom of time will fully heal them.'

Stacy listened to her words silently, gauging that she was speaking about none other than the Dark Sun God himself, and Arcadia's own repressed feelings.

When Stacy finally mustered enough gall to speak herself, she had to choke back a sudden gamut of tears from surfacing.

'…But I'm a total bitch. I treat everyone and everything around me like shit. I lie, manipulate, and honestly take pleasure in killing those pathetic hollows. Even the one person who I can call a friend, hell the only person I even knew before coming here…it's a fucking miracle we haven't tried killing each other.

And then "he" came along. No matter what disgusting thing I would say, or downright cunty thing I would do, he would just…smile. That goddamn, _fucking perfect _smile of his…and I couldn't even see his face! That's how perfect it was!

So I see him. And then I took a hard long look at myself. I'll never be the Sun he wants so damn much.'

Arcadia listened to her quietly, giving Stacy her full attention as she spilled her heart right in front of her. Then she replied:

'Idiot.'

Stacy blinked hard, already coiling a snarl on her face, that familiar comforting bubbling of fury she so took comfort in was surging back into her heart like wildfire.

'Huh?!'

'You're an idiot.' Arcadia repeated, this time clambering to her feet and swiftly turning her back as she ambled towards the exit. 'That's exactly what I would have told myself, if I could turn back the hands of time. You can blame yourself and your own insipid insecurities until the dawning of a new age, but it won't change the one thing in this wicked world that only you have control over.'

Stacy was aghast, Arcadia was tearing her apart. She couldn't do anything but sit there and listen to her scathing speech.

'It's your _choice_. It can't get any simpler than that. Either choose joy or misery. Love or Regret. Victory or Death. That's what everything comes down to. So…choose. And be ready for battle soon.'

She left with those words, each crushing syllable hammering over and over into Stacy's mind long after the Firekeeper had left.

Then, she screamed. A loud, howling shriek of anger and frustration.

'Choice! If it's that fucking easy, then I'll do it!'

With that proclamation, she scooped up her cards and barrelled up the stairs four at a time, and back into the dimming glow of Anor Londo.

=][=

'What?! Quelaag is here?' Bob blurted to himself when he spotted the Chaos Witch ambling about below him in the Ornstein and Smough chamber. She seemed to be idly taking in the sights until she spotted Bob gaping down at her and immediately launched upwards and landed hard on the balcony; her searing spider legs flicking embers of fire on impact.

Quelaag bore down on him like a blazing empress, wrinkling her noise in mild disgust at Bob as she recognized him. She didn't attack, but her Fury Sword was poised to strike at the drop of a prism stone; its jagged, serrated blade bleeding droplets of flame from its sharp edges.

Bob steeled his courage under her wrathful gaze and did his best to greet her as politely as he could.

'Hello. Ms Quelaag…uh, what brings you here?'

She didn't answer, but the awkward silence didn't last long when Stacy suddenly bolted to Bob's side from out of his view.

'Hey, Bob. Have you seen S-ooAAGGGH! Quelaag!'

Stacy flailed wildly for a second, but eventually composed herself when she too realized Quelaag didn't show up for a fight.

'Huh? What?' Stacy seemingly replied to nothing with a tilt of her head. Bob quickly picked up on the similarities of a previous situation, specifically how Stacy had been able to communicate with Quelaag's sister. Like that time, the Chaos Witch was moving her lips in silent speech, and Bob was again left in the dark.

'Hey, how're you doing that?' He had to ask.

Stacy just raised her left hand in his face, displaying an old copper ring of some kind, like that explained anything.

Bob sighed in resignation as the two continued to speak.

'You want 30 pieces? One at a time? Hang on, hang on…'

She reached into the sleeve of her robe and whisked out a Darkmoon Talisman before holding it to her ear like a conch shell.

'Yeah. Gwynie, you there? Listen, Quelaag wants 30 bits of humanity as a joining fee. One at a time.'

Ridiculously enough, Gwyndolin's voice blared out of the talisman in reply.

'_If that's what it takes to get a Chaos Witch on our side. But she can forget about getting them one at a time. I don't blame her though, hardly anyone joins her covenant, so it's natural to want to savour some attention. Honestly, that one pathetic pyromancy spell is all the reward a member gets for—' _

Stacy shoved the talisman back into her robe, cutting Gwyndolin off with a sharp blare of static.

'Anyway, welcome aboard. How's the family?'

Quelaag just snorted in reply before bounding off the balcony and scuttling away, leaving a trail of scorched tile in her wake.

'Sheesh.' Stacy muttered when Quelaag had left. Then she turned to Bob, finally completing the query she had tried to utter earlier. 'Bob, have you seen Solaire around?'

He had a little while earlier. Solaire had given him a crash course in the fine arts of Astoran Martial Arts. If it hadn't been for the nearby bonfire healing the multiple fractures and snapped limbs, there'd be no way he would be standing at that point.

'Yeah, last I saw him was at a bonfire we hadn't used yet; in a small room next to a spiralling staircase. He mentioned something about looking at the sun from the revolving bridge.'

'Aw crap, I must've just missed him. Oh, before I go…' She threw a Darkmoon talisman at Bob who fumbled it clumsily. 'Just yell "Seek Guidance" if you wanna talk. I'm gonna find Sol then.'

Bob quickly satcheled the talisman and yelled out to her as she ran off. Luckily, the elevator screwed her over so Bob managed to say something as his partner jogged in place impatiently.

'Hey! What d'you need to tell Solaire exactly?'

The elevator arrived and Stacy stepped on the disc before turning around and flashing Bob that crazed grin of hers.

'That I love that bastard!'

And then she was gone. Bob couldn't help but smile to himself. That was Stacy in a nutshell, but even Bob noticed her tears. She was expecting rejection, but she just didn't give a damn. It was all about getting it out there before the big show. Clearing her head of the insane contradictions of love. He just hoped Solaire would be a gentleman about it, but really, that was a given.

Speaking of such things…where was Priscilla?

Bob peeked over the railing and spotted her glowing white, towering frame amongst the rabble of her small army below. A dozen wheel skeletons were tearing the ground around her in a perpetual donut of destruction, no doubt spelling spiked doom for anyone with the guts to get close.

'Some things just have to wait…' He grumbled to himself. Priscilla glanced up at him from directing her troops and beamed that immaculate smile.

=][=

The mountain range shielding Anor Londo from the prying eyes of the rest of the world stood proud and impermeable. The Sun, in all its miraculous amber splendour shone within that massive canyon like a glowing guardian; watching over the Lost City and the Lost City alone.

But beyond the bounds of that range, within the pitch-black inky blackness that had already swallowed the shrine of Firelink; bleeding its sanctuary into the unfathomable depths of the abyss, lay a gathering of monsters so impure and driven to madness that simply drained the very colour and life from Lordran in its intensity.

It was dark then. An impenetrable darkness had swathed to the very tips of the place, clawing away the last shreds of light. In fact, the only glimmer left was the very mountain range which shielded Anor Londo.

The Darkwraiths had gathered. Every single one from every dimension. Amongst them were skeletal warriors; some obviously humans in the past, others clearly the remains of the Giants. There were phantasms, giant rats, crystal golems, and even a fleet of Moonlight Butterflies circling soundlessly in the starless night sky.

There were no words between them. But nothing needed to be said. They knew what had to be done. Why they had gathered in that place. And who was to lead them.

The Chosen Undead appeared amongst them, wearing a ridiculous combination of armor.

A mask that screamed: "Derp". Hulking stone gauntlets and greaves carved from grey dragon ores, a raiment of gold plating normally reserved for the Giants of Anor Londo, and a Dark Knight Great Axe resting on his shoulder.

The many glinting eyes of the Army of Darkness followed his careless and arrogant steps until he stopped to face none other than the primordial serpent, Kingseeker Frampt, from the pit that led to the Kiln of the First Flame.

'Our Dark Lord has returnedth…' Frampt recited with an excited click of his mangy teeth. Chosen didn't seem the least bit pleased at being addressed as such, nodding off to the side as Frampt blathered on. 'Let Frampt serve your highness, for it is you that—'

Frampt suddenly stopped, his condescending voice sputtering out in a retching choke. A sound, echoed out from below…a rending, a _slicing_.

The Four Kings cleaved out and upwards from the darkness below Frampt, leaving the Serpent to bob there for a stunned moment before his stinking mass peeled apart in four directions like a macabre palm tree until they fell into the blackness whence they came.

Chosen turned on his heel and looked out to the range that hid Anor Londo from prying eyes. The faint flickering of light dimmed gradually against the dull silver sheen of his stupid mask.

He knew. The monsters knew.

It was almost time.

=][=

'Hey, Sol!' Stacy yelled cheerfully when she spotted the Warrior of Sunlight leaning against the railing that overlooked the valley beneath Anor Londo, with the sun cresting overhead in the distant mountains. The sun was dimming. Stacy wanted to think she was imagining it, but there was no denying it at that point. She could see shadows where there had been none before; stretching and slithering wherever they could, growing in number and size. From the angle Stacy was approaching, the sun sat just above Solaire's helmet, forming a glinting halo of light, but also darkening the rest of his body as he too cast a foreboding shadow.

Maybe he hadn't heard her? She made to step closer but stopped short of a few paces from him when he spoke.

'Do you think me a fool?'

Stacy's heart froze at that statement, and just how far it was from what she expected from the man. His tone was bitter, shaken, and self-mocking as he continued; not even bothering to turn and face her.

'All this time…all this searching…and it comes to this.'

Stacy grimaced at his words. She'd seen Solaire slip away to mull over his thoughts a few times in the past, but every time she'd approached that perfect gleam in his eyes would reignite. Bob had even done the same thing a few times, he'd told her. Solaire would be lost in his own little world but quickly snap back like nothing had happened.

But not that time. Stacy steeled her beating heart and moved to his side, feeling a stinging pang in her gut when she saw his eyes. They were empty and distant, robbed of their light as the sun itself dimmed before them. It was in that moment that Stacy realized something. She really didn't know anything about Solaire of Astora. Who he really was. What he was doing. What he truly wanted. Was seeking out the sun some kind of strange metaphor? Or did he really believe such a thing was possible?

'Sol, hey…c'mon…' Stacy spoke weakly, cursing her inability to say something to comfort him. She was truly horrible at being nice. 'What's with that look? Are you tired?'

Solaire turned to her, and that pain in Stacy's chest just magnified.

'I am tired.' He muttered, fixing her with a placated gaze. 'I am tired of all this searching being for nought. Finding my own Sun…' Solaire chuckled a grim and humourless laugh. '…What was I thinking? Such a thing does not exist. Even the arms I wield, and the armor I wear, is all of my design. There's nothing special about them. There's nothing special about me. There's nothing…there's _nothing…_'

Solaire's voice broke with that sentence, crushed by his own self-doubt. Stacy was horrified at the state of the man. She wanted to faint and wake up somewhere else, to beg the ceiling that greeted her to say it was just a nightmare. A strange blanket of catharsis enveloped her then, but instead of passing out, she did something even more stupid.

With a pained cry, she punched Solaire in the side of his head, yelping out as her knuckles rearranged themselves against the hard steel of his helm. Solaire hardly shifted from the attack, but the gesture was enough for him to fix her with a bemused stare. But before he could say anything, Stacy leapt forward again and slammed her forehead into his metal dome with the most violent kiss she could manage.

She pulled back a little but gripped the green scruff of his shoulders in her trembling, balled-up fists; her face lit up in a crimson flush of embarrassment and utterly unhinged fury.

'There's _YOU_! There's only ever been you! Everything you are, everything you've _fucking _done is you! Did the sun give you strength?! Did it make your armor and weapons?! NO! _You_ did you fucking _marvellous bastard!_'

There, a glint of that radiance flickered back to life in Solaire's eyes. It didn't return fully, but it was enough to bring the Warrior of Sunlight back from whatever dark brink was about to consume him.

'I love you, you know?' Stacy growled, her grip on his armor scruff slackening. 'I just wanted to tell you that. Could die pretty soon, right? So…no regrets on my end. S-sorry for hitting you like that…'

Solaire was quiet as Stacy finally let go of him and took a few paces back, eyes downcast. He breathed deep and glanced back up at what remained of the setting sun.

'…Thank you for that, Fair Stacy.' He said slowly, with a fragment of his usual self intact in his tone. 'I almost lost myself in that dark place.'

He approached her and put a comforting palm atop her head.

'I shudder to picture a scene with that darkness and no Fair Stacy there to quell it. I'm grateful, truly I am…and…'

Stacy snorted back some tears and locked eyes with him as he spoke further.

'…In regards to your romantic feelings, I—'

_SCREEEE! _

The Darkmoon Talisman in Stacy's robe abruptly shrieked to life. She didn't even manage to pull it out, but Gwyndolin's blaring voice was so powerful that anyone within fifty metres heard him.

'_Stacy! Get to the Sunlight Chamber NOW! It's starting!' _

The eroding of the light around them suddenly accelerated, already dipping them in a foreboding greyness. The atmosphere between them shifted, like a surge of sorcery igniting the air around them.

It was a familiar feeling. The high of imminent battle.

'Solaire! Let's go!' Stacy roared as she broke into a crazed sprint. Solaire nodded enthusiastically and ran with her, drawing his sword and shield. The darkness was already trailing behind their stamping feet.

The pandemonium that met them when they reached the outer cathedral walls was palpable. It was a deafening cacophony of voice and steel as their absurdly varied force rallied in the main chamber, jostling together in their groups and drawing their weapons in a ceaseless light-show of glinting steel. Hundreds of torches were lit and placed along the walls, as well as the ground floor on pikes and several held by painted hollows. The few Darkmoon sorcerers who could shot glowing orbs of the Oolacile light spell into the ceiling and walls, enhancing the light with a more unnatural glow. The massive doors were quickly shut after Solaire and Stacy had entered; the hole that Solaire himself had punched through it earlier already mended and reinforced by magic.

'Fair Stacy!' Solaire yelled over the controlled madness. Stacy turned back as she ran and managed to catch the miniature form of the Lordvessel as it flew from his hands.

'Tis safer up there!' He reasoned and stopped running, merging with the countless warriors at his every side. 'Praise the Sun!'

'Praise _SOLAIRE!_' Stacy shot back as she bounded up the steps with a torrent of Silver Knights pouring downwards in the opposite direction. Trailing the Knights was Bob, who did a double-take when he spotted her running.

'Stace! Do us proud!' He screamed with a salute and charged after the Knights.

'Smash their teeth in for me, Bob!' Stacy returned the gesture.

There was no need to wait for the elevator, Priscilla scooped her up as she ran and missiled upwards with a giant leap to the balcony.

'I'm touching that tail when this over, whether you let me or not!' Stacy yelled as Priscilla let her down on the top floor.

Before Priscilla jumped back down, she smirked back at her playfully.

'Thou'st welcome to fucking try.'

Gwyndolin was already waiting for Stacy when she arrived, flanked by a pair of Giant Sentinels as he stood imperiously before her; his arms crossed and his open snarl a wall of white glinting superiority.

At his feet was a wide desk smattered with several hundred Lordran-Oh cards. The set of cards were clearly ensorcelled, as they were darting and moving about on a grid made to look like the Cathedral itself, as well as the outer walls.

'Take your precious time, mortal!' Gwyndolin greeted her in the nicest manner Stacy had ever heard from him. 'Watch our forces! Watch the enemy! Move them as you will while I relay the order! Understood!?'

'I got this, Gwynie.'

Gwyndolin didn't respond. Though one of the Sentinels snickered under his massive helmet.

'S-SILENCE!'

Stacy didn't pay them the slightest. She was already utterly absorbed in the cards' movements, repositioning units here, changing specific unit powers there, setting passive command attacks, making formations…and all the while glancing at the four cards that represented her friends.

There was Solaire and Bob, side by side in a defensive stance in the 14th row. Arcadia was covering the flank, specifically the narrow path that cut around to the side of the cathedral, with 40 Silver Knights armed with Dragonslayer Bows at her sides, ready to mutilate whatever monster dared to try and cross that kill zone. Priscilla was nearby on the ground floor, pacing back and forth in front of her troops, no doubt giving them some rousing speech.

Gwyndolin watched Stacy completely rearrange his defensive plan with mild irritation, but he quickly resigned himself to giving out the appropriate commands, roaring out with his magnified voice while at the same time channelling the Talismans carried by his most capable Darkmoon Officers to relay it as necessary.

'And so the final battle between good and evil is about to begin…' Gwyndolin said with a hushed voice, arcing his arms in overly-dramatic poses. 'The Darkwraiths, the Lord Demons, the Chosen Undead, every one of you will meet your end HERE!'

=][=

Bob stood shoulder to shoulder with Solaire; the Warrior of Sunlight's infectious courage steeling his own. The caestus gloves on Bob's hands were part of him, an extension of his fighting will. He was ready to fight, ready to—

_KRACK-K-K! _

Something powerful and massive violently splintered the door inwards, instantly dispelling the defensive enchantments rigged to its surface. A set of bone-white scaleless knuckles were protruding from it, accompanied by a horrid, guttural roar of draconic proportions.

The door held…barely. And everyone standing in the chamber knew it wouldn't any longer when the deathly pale, clawed fist retracted and was then followed by another ungodly roar.

Time froze for a merciless second.

The next impact split the entire doorframe open…

…and all Abyss broke loose.


	14. Princess Guard

_Queen's Notice Board: No way! More than a hundred reviews! Aw, you guys…! _

_Here! Longest chapter yet as my form of sincere thanks. Word of warning, this whole chapter is a day-to-day recap of the quiet, boring life Bob and Stacy shared before their adventure. It'll be full of subtle characterization, realistic dialog, and smarmy introspective's on the human condition of catharsis and acceptance. _

**DARK(ISH) SOULS**

Seath the Scaleless exploded into the room like a white immortal harbinger of death. He didn't even bother roaring dramatically with his entrance; immediately, _mercilessly_ blasting the first column of Giants with a wide swathe of its crystal breath attack. The first line didn't bring their towering shields up in time and were hit flush with the devastating beam as it rent right through their golden armor; crystallizing on contact before shattering their bodies apart from the sheer force of the brutal sweep. The second row of Giants quickly clustered together into a wall of shields as the front row literally collapsed in a shower of glinting death.

Bob could feel the cold, crystal doom from where he stood, yelping in pain as mere flecks of it brushed his exposed face under his helmet, prompting him to clamp his visor down.

'Oh _fuck.' _He breathed, but remained steady. Solaire said nothing, mirroring the group of Silver Knights still standing in perfect formation despite the carnage unfolding.

Seath didn't let up for a fucking second. The moment the first arc of his crystal breath finished, he roared and fired another blistering volley like a deadly one-two combination.

The frontline of Giants blocked what they could, but their shields took about a second of pure crystal artillery before spastically folding underneath the barrage; crumbling inwards like a house of cards smashed with any icy hurricane.

The Giants held their line, still standing even with their shields wrecked and painful spires of crystal jutting out from their bodies, some even sticking out of the holes in their helmets.

Again, Seath just kept blasting, only this time he dipped his head low; signalling a dead-straight salvo right through their lines.

Bob saw it, clenching his gauntlets in furious terror. There was no time or space to move.

'_Artillery! Focus fire!'_

Even over the horrifying din of Seath's monstrous roars, Gwyndolin's voice broke through. The sudden shunt of movement in Bob's allies was incredible. Just as Seath was about to cut his beam down the middle of their formation, a ridiculous fusillade of blue hellfire from every sorcerer in the cathedral whipped through the air with deadly precision and quite literally blasted Seath's head apart as it all connected at once. The stupendously well-timed salvo of every type of Soul Arrow had caught Seath flush in the face, catching him mid-beam and effectively bursting his own attack before it had torn out of its throat. A glistening torrent of scaleless flesh and pearl-white teeth had splattered the entire width of the hole Seath had made with his entrance.

But blowing Seath's head off was just the start. Right on cue, every Silver Knight in the room let loose with a follow-up volley of Dragonslayer Arrows that plunged right into Seath's bony chest. Since Seath was already reeling from having his face obliterated, the momentum of being pinchushioned by a wall of flying spears was enough to throw his whole body back violently.

Bob fought back the urge to cheer prematurely, as just as Seath was thrown back outside the main gate, a veritable swarm of Darkwraiths and giant skeletons surged through the gaps that appeared at his sides. As if that wasn't enough, Seath's head was already growing back; morphing and pulsating his features back into place in a disgusting display of reverse decomposition.

Gwyndolin's voice became present again; his thunderous, commanding voice keeping Bob in the battle at hand.

'_Artillery! Concentrate on the door! Ground forces support the Giants!' _

It was glorious to behold. Every projectile that their forces wielding just created an absolute maelstrom of endless destruction at the gate, a crucial bottleneck. Wave after wave of Darkwraiths, Skeletons and assorted monsters were hammered to a standstill and pulverized before they even set foot into the cathedral. But their numbers were expectedly overwhelming. As just as many managed to push through past the scattering remains of their allies, fearlessly charging towards the Giant's defensive line.

Bob could see the basic, but still highly effective strategy that Stacy was using. The Giants were an excellent bulwark, but they suffered at close range against the nimble Darkwraiths. When the Giant's brought down their massive golden halberds in a crushing, synchronized attack that outright flattened an entire line of Wraiths into black paste, several more of the monsters tried slicing in during the brief moment of vulnerability.

And that was Bob's time to shine. As expected, another wave rushed in to try and overwhelm the Giant phalanx but instead of standing there to try and block them, they raised their massive shields like opening a floodgate that released divine murder. A storm of Silver Knight's and Darkmoons jumped in through the small gaps between their line of Giant defenders, slicing, stabbing, and in Bob's case, brutally bashing every sneaky bastard that tried to cut through. Some strange kind of skeleton that bounded along on all-fours tried to bite and claw its way past Bob but his newly-minted skills kicked into overdrive. He stopped the thing dead with a swift hook that shattered its lower jaw into white dust, which caused the whole thing to collapse into a pile of useless bones that were immediately trampled by more attackers.

Bob had nothing to worry about though. In the few precious seconds that he'd fought back, the Giant's had already lifted their halberds back into the air and absolutely demolished another line of monsters. Again, the pattern repeated with the enemy trying to fruitlessly push through only to be consumed in a perfectly coordinated death-vacuum of Silver and Darkmoon. Bob and Solaire faced down a pair of charging Darkwraiths next. One of them rushed in with a swirling wall of dark magic in its hand like a shield, but Solaire was pulling out all the stops. He'd enchanted his sword with the Sunlight Blade Miracle and sliced diagonally through the Wraith like cutting air; Dark Hand shield and all. Bob wasn't as graceful with his target. As it lunged at him with a running stab, Bob countered by punching the tip of its blunt sword as it cut towards him. The momentum caused the sword to literally implode in the Wraith's hand and run its head straight into Bob's waiting fist, impaling itself through its skeletal face. Solaire was there to assist him by ramming his shield into the impaled Darkwraith's midsection, throwing it clean off of Bob's fist and sending its broken body tumbling backwards just as the Giant's slammed their shield wall into place and brutally crushed another wave in tandem.

'You're doing marvellously, my friend!' Solaire managed to cheer in between another successful routing of monsters that survived the Giant's bulwark smash. 'And to think Fair Stacy would be such a tyrannically gifted Warlord!'

'Thanks, Sol! I just hope Stace has a plan for _that.'_

Bob motioned towards the almost-regenerated Seath in between decapitating a Darkwraith with a haymaker. Seath was too huge to enter the cathedral proper, and it probably wouldn't use its breath attack whilst its allies were pouring in through the gate, but Bob was unnerved by the last surviving dragon all the same.

'Hang on…the hell is it doing?!' Bob yelled out when Seath lurched out with its arms and tentacles and began scaling the outer wall of the cathedral; disappearing above the upper frame of the gate. It was hard to guess what it was doing at first, as Bob still had to fight off endless waves of monsters, but when a resounding, splitting quake of an impact caused a small torrent of dust and debris to detach from the ceiling, he quickly realized what was happening with a sickening churn of fear in his gut. Seath was going to punch a hole in the ceiling, right above their forces, and most likely rain down crystal destruction in a horrifying pincer attack. The Darkmoon sorcerers and Silver Knight archers would have to rout him again, but in doing so would stunt their current artillery barrage at the main gate, probably letting in an insurmountable level of monsters to surge inside.

'Aw, dammit! Sol!'

'I'm aware!' Solaire replied as he charged a Great Lightning Spear in his right hand and hurled it forward, piercing four Wraiths in line into a kebab before the spear itself exploded gloriously. 'You must have faith!'

=][=

'Fucking dragon!' Stacy cursed as the Seath card on the desk started to smugly crawl over the ensuing battle below, floating about a foot in mid-air. 'Should've figured that piece of shit wouldn't play fair.'

Gwyndolin looked more furious than ever, practically bleeding a dark blue aura of menace as he continued to roar out orders to his forces in accordance to Stacy's card movements.

'Oh man…' Stacy was wilting a little, her hands already a blur under the growing pressure of repelling the endless decks of enemy cards storming the gate. 'Maybe if I move Quelaag…no Seath is too fucking big. How many gargoyles do we have left…wait, they're over—shit! Gwynie! Is there anything in reserve to deal with Seath?!'

Gwyndolin winced at that question, almost like he'd expected it.

'There is but using it is tantamount to heresy!'

Another bone-shaking impact rattled the pillars in the room accompanied by more clouds of dust falling from the ceiling. Stacy brushed it out of her hair and donned her hood.

'Are you insane?! We need EVERYTHING to win!'

Gwyndolin cursed aloud and threw a single card onto the desk, realizing there really wasn't any time to argue.

'May Gwyn have mercy on us all…'

Stacy quickly peered at the new card on the field and felt her jaw drop in ridiculous disbelief. It was heresy all right, but at that point, nothing was taboo anymore.

'Eat shit, Seath!' She screamed as she put the card into play.

=][=

The immortal dragon pummelled the roof of the Anor Londo cathedral, each successive strike breaking and weakening the structure enough from him to soon blast right through it with his crystal breath.

A sudden radiance of golden light stopped him just he raised another punch. It formed at the other end of the roof, encapsulating into itself in a holy furor of incredible magic power. The light finally took form, framing a pair of arms, two legs, and one beautiful cleavage.

Gwynevere, Princess of Sunlight stood proud and firm before Seath the Scaleless, her arms outstretched as her golden light illuminated nearly all of Anor Londo in its splendour. She wore the same placid, relaxed look, save for the crackling golden surge of energy emitting from her eyes.

Seath was hesitant at first, seemingly uncertain of what to make of it, but Gwynevere answered that query by exploding off the mark and burying her knuckles deep into Seath's face. Bones crunched and scales tore as her fist neatly cleaved through and tore Seath's lower jaw off. The force of such a giant being moving at that speed released a burst of raw energy that sphered out and caused nearly every building expect the cathedral itself to break out into cracks and crumble into towering pillars of dust.

As Seath's head recoiled from that attack, Gwynevere violently took hold of his neck, reared her own head back, and slammed her dome into its face. One, two, three times. Each consecutive hit further turning the Scaleless' face into an imploded mess.

However, Seath was born blind, and managed to find a home for his own fist to wrap around the Princess' jaw, releasing her grip on his neck and throwing her huge, robed form to the other side of the cathedral roof.

Gwynevere recovered quickly, bounding into a roll and back to her feet, facing Seath down once again.

=][=

Arcadia had hoped Gwyndolin would find an excuse not to launch Project Sunlight, but once the Darkmoon Talisman fit snugly in her helmet relayed that Seath had begun to try and punch a hole through the cathedral itself, she knew that'd be an inevitable outcome. She hadn't expected such an ungodly amount of power from it though, and even had to plunge her sword into a wall to steady herself from falling into the blackness below.

Project Sunlight was too volatile, just as likely to destroy them as any enemy. But it was the only thing capable of inflicting enough damage to Seath to at least put him out of commission long enough to affect the battle.

There was another unexpected outcome of its appearance; the wide frame of light it produced. It quickly brought to attention the force of Darkwraiths and Crystal Golems trying to sneak over the narrow walkway in the cover of the previous darkness that had enshrouded them.

'Unleash hell…' Arcadia said calmly as she raised her hand, the 40 Dragonslayer Bow wielding Knights framing the narrow ledge raising the pointed tips of their massive arrows as one. Without any hesitation or mercy she gave the signal to fire.

On that little walkway, without walls or railings of any kind, the approaching enemy was completely exposed to the triangulated storm of Dragonslayer arrows.

Each arrow that thunked into place in a Wraith's chest drove the impure monsters off the walkway completely; hissing in pain and humiliation as they were swallowed by the darkness they seemed to want so much. The Golems fared no better. Though their sloped, crystalline shells managed to deflect the arrows themselves, the force of each impact was like a literal punch to the face, throwing them off-balance enough for them to stumble and fall spectacularly, at times even lashing out wildly with their stubby arms and knocking off several of their own allies down to the depths with them.

'Clumsy beasts…' Arcadia couldn't help but mutter. The monsters kept coming despite the tremendous losses they were incurring, but that didn't bother her at all. Holding that small walkway was crucial to overcoming the enemies' most likely huge numerical advantage. The forces of Anor Londo could ill afford to fight on two even fronts.

The Darkwraiths, though taking heavy losses, managed to gain some reprieve from the Dragonslayer onslaught by taking cover behind the small pylon about halfway across the narrow walkway. They were going to group up there as best as they could for a another push, Arcadia gathered calmly.

'You can't hide from your sins.' She murmured, giving off a brief glint of her Darkmoon Blade miracle; a signal for another method of attack.

A cluster of Darkwraiths was gathering along the wall of the pylon, biding their time for an inevitable opening before they charged ahead. They seethed and hissed in guttural non-speak as they brandished their Darkswords in preparation, but a large, previously unseen mass flared into being above them. Chaos Witch Quelaag teetered above them, sticking to the wall and offering them the most sadistic sultry smile she could manage before having her lower spider half abruptly puke a literal magmafall of flesh-melting death down on them.

The carnage was as brutal as it was effective. Several dozens were suddenly drenched in the searing liquid that immediately churned through their Dark Armor like dry paper. They roared and hissed in agony and disbelief as they tripped and feel twenty at a time, shooting into the blackness like screaming fireballs. The ones that managed to scamper away from Quelaag's magma puke only served to meet an arguably less painful end when they stepped out from the wall of the pylon only to be rag dolled by a hellstorm of Dragonslayer arrows waiting for them to break cover.

Arcadia watched it unfold with a cold, indifferent gaze. There was no point of showing mercy to those things, after all. She almost let herself become complacent until Gwyndolin's voice abruptly rang inside her helm.

'_Arcadia! BELOW!'_

She heeded his words immediately and dropped her gaze for the first time since the start of the battle. What she saw made her breath cut short for a heart stopping moment, but she yelled out the first command that screamed in her mind.

'DRAW SWORDS!'

The order proved fruitless, as the twisting forest of branches that had crept up on them from below their field of vision suddenly sprung its merciless ambush. Countless branching tentacles shot upwards before most of the Knights could switch weapons. Several of them were impaled with enough devastating force to drive their bodies into the walls, even more were snatched by the tentacles and thrown aside carelessly or simply crushed into a metal-shrieking mess in the span of a single hopeless second.

Arcadia silently thanked the gods that her rapier was already in her hand, or else she wouldn't have been able to cut down the swarm of branches that had knifed towards her in unison. She took in her surroundings in an instant, taking in the abject horror of her defensive line being torn to metal ribbons before her very eyes. She even managed a split-second glance below, confirming her growing fears. The Bed of Chaos had snuck up on them, having climbed from the very bottom of the Earth no less. She'd thought the monster immobile, but watching it drive its flaming "wings" of chaos into the wall to hoist itself up quickly disproved that notion. It's featureless mass of twisting rotwood branches was already ballooning in size as it clambered closer, and again Arcadia had no time but to relay the very first order she could.

'Withdraw! Back to the corridor! We're completely exposed!'

She hoped to Gwyn that whatever remained of her force had heard her, as she simply spun on her heel and bolted for all her worth back to the small balcony on the left side below that led into the innards of the Londo Cathedral. Even as she ran a mess of the Bed's tentacles were already sprouting along every inch of the cliff, dangerously close to cutting her off completely. No doubt, with the Bed of Chaos destroying their ranks, the attacking force of Darkwraiths were already charging across the walkway unimpeded.

Arcadia hopped down and landed hard but immediately broke into a run when she reached the balcony and the sanctuary of indoors. She knew there was a bonfire through the door on the left but it would probably be useless with so many monsters around. When she felt she was far enough, Arcadia turned around and braced for the inevitable attack that would no doubt come surging through the passage to the balcony that she had just taken.

A pang of worry managed to rattle her normally unshakeable confidence when of her entire force of Silver Knights, only nine had managed to follow her. They stood at her sides, facing the passageway as they drew their bows again. They were devoid of fear, but Arcadia knew it would not be enough to stem the tide of what would soon come pouring through that passage.

But then, a lone warrior stepped forth ahead of her. It was not a Knight of Silver, but a Berenike. Black Iron Tarkus.

He strode purposefully towards the open passageway; armor and Greatsword glinting wickedly in the torch fire, and waited silently as the oncoming chatter of the Darkwraiths gradually poisoned the air.

A few more Silver Knights with their elegant spears moved in from the rooms behind Arcadia and formed another defensive line just in front of their long-range compatriots. Then came another handful of Darkmoon squads with their widely assorted armor and weapons, with those that could use sorceries and miracles taking the rear with the Dragonslayers.

'We have to hold here.' Arcadia told her paltry defence, somewhat unnecessarily. 'I refuse to report failure to Gwyndolin. Darkmoons…punish the guilty.'

As if in time with her words the first group of monsters dropped down in the balcony, immediately being torn to black shreds by their artillery force. But the onrushing numbers of Darkwraiths only increased by the second, and they soon muscled through the long range attacks and brought their Dark Hands up to block what they could.

Tarkus was already there to meet them. He swung his giant blade in huge, one-handed arcs that cleaved the air from wall-to-wall. It was like the Darkwraiths were walking into a Black Iron wall of destruction. Their shields and bodies just collapsed inwards as Tarkus' blade broke into them, not slowing, not catching, never-ending. Even the odd Crystal Golem that lumbered towards him fared no better. Tarkus just struck them with his shield as he charged, using their wide bodies to his advantage to successfully use them as a crystal battering ram; clearing out an entire line of attackers by forcing them back to the balcony and smashing them all clear to their doom.

Arcadia wasn't easily impressed, but she was in clear awe of Black Iron Tarkus. He was a one-man army, effectively defending the flank almost by himself. The stories of his invincibility suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched at that point.

And then the Bed of Chaos appeared. The Mother of Demons thrust one of its hands through the passage, fanning its numerous tentacle branches outwards in every forward direction. All at once it was hit by another barrage of sorcery and arrows but that didn't even slow it down. Tarkus tried to cut down its appendages in a furious dance of lunging blows, but every branch his Greatsword sliced through regenerated completely before he even completed his swing.

Then, with a sickenly sudden jolt, the tentacles wrapped themselves around his arms and legs and yanked his whole body out of the corridor.

'Tarkus!' Arcadia yelled out, not even managing to take a single step to his aid when the passageway immediately began to overflow with another wave of monsters.

Arcadia cursed loudly and re-enchanted her sword as the skeletal grins of the Darkwraiths filled her vision.

'Come at me, sinners…'

=][=

The Bed of Chaos was plunged into the side of the Great Cathedral, its many tendrils and tentacles sprouting along its once-pristine walls like a branching disease. Up above, Seath the Scaleless and the Illusory Goddess were smashing the immortality out of each other. Each of their crushing hits threatened to crumble the very mountains that surrounded the city. They formed a perfect centre as the battle raged all around them, with the ceaseless lines of monsters bleeding into the light of the Lost City from two main fronts.

Tarkus was constricted in the Bed's massive hand as it wasted no time trying to crush the puny being into a mess of metal and fleshy sinew. The Black Iron Warrior did what he could to break free, thrashing his sword out of its twisting constraints but being quickly swarmed with the newly grown branches that endlessly twisted and squeezed his body.

The Bed was clearly agitated at the man's insistence to not dying right away, and with a monstrous howl applied its other hand to crushing the human.

The force was too much. Tarkus froze, bucking under the ungodly strain, fixing the Bed with a stare so chilling with its silent vengeance that any lesser demon would have let go out of sheer terror.

The Mother of Demons did not hesitate, rending further pressure to its hands. Tarkus' armor began to bend inwards…

Quelaag suddenly crashed into the Bed's "face", forcing it to reel back in shock and pain as she followed with a gout of searing magma at point blank range. The Bed shrieked as the magma set its form ablaze, its wooden body catching spectacularly well in a storm of immolation. Quelaag latched on for dear life as the Bed flailed about in blind panic, but she persisted in bathing the arch demon in magma and carving deep slices into its body with her Furysword. She hacked away faster and faster, rending the branches apart as she dug deeper into its chest area, sending flaming cinders of charred wood all around her. Her sword abruptly caught in the air as she readied another slice, the Bed having somehow recovered enough to snare her weapon and arm in its twisting tendrils.

The slack in her furious attack was a critical failure as already the Bed was regenerating all the damage she had done trying to cut her way inside it. Another larger tentacle whipped around the mouth of her spider half; clamping it shut so hard that some its eyes bugged out and burst from the pressure. Quelaag didn't even have time to struggle as every part of her body just disappeared under a vortex of demonic branches. But just before her face was covered, she managed a furious, yet silent yell. Right before the Bed simply squashed her form into mush, a _massive _shunt of inertia almost tore the entire monstrosity from the wall. It hung there with only one of its fiery claws supporting it.

And there, having literally appeared from the same depths that the Bed had, was its worst nightmare.

'GuuUUOOOOOO!'

The pathetic, almost sombre howl of Ceaseless Discharge droned out the Bed's tinny shrieks of surprise. With repeated shouts of pain and despair the disfigured giant of magma climbed the torso of the Bed like it was oversized rope, its mere touch burrowing into its body with the unrelenting heat it exuded.

There was nothing the Bed of Chaos could do to throw it off. It tried slamming Discharge with repeated open palms and spearing it with every branch and tentacle it could throw at it, but everything that connected erupted into its own flames that burnt towards its centre like a lit fuse.

Something was driving Discharge, a long-lost emotion fuelling it into a rampage of flaming madness. With another pained shout it speared the Bed's body with its own flaming tentacles, pinning it helplessly to the wall it clung to. It then punched its hands inside of it before clawing its brittle torso open, skewing it open so far the whole thing almost tore in half. And there, in the Bed's very core, clinging to mattress of dirt and twigs, was a puny maggot-grey insect. It shrieked hysterically as it willed all of its power to regrow its body, but Discharge was already rearing back its gigantic fist for the killing blow—

-and then it slipped. Discharge hollered in dismay as it plunged downwards and barely managed to snag a loose tentacle to keep from completely plummeting into the darkness. Its own body began to work against it as the one hand that had temporarily saved it was melting the tentacle it clung to helplessly.

The little bug at the core of the Bed chittered a mocking laugh of sorts as it eyed the monster that had come so close to ending its existence. It cricked a sigh of relief as the branches that protected it regrew swiftly around its form.

An explosion of power suddenly caused one of its hands to blast apart. The bug screamed and darted its beady eyes to the stump where its hand had been—only to see a gauntlet of Black Iron already plunging its way through the brittle mess of branches that separated it from the world.

It screamed again in a last desperate screech in an attempt to shut the hand out.

Too late. Its body managed to close around the arm to try and sever it, but the cold metallic grip had already reached it; closing its fingers around its fat maggoty body.

'Hrgh…' Tarkus grunted, feeling the core of the Bed of Chaos pop in his hands like a chunky water balloon. Immediately, he felt himself fall as the body of the archdemon crumbled away in a stone-grey shower of scattering branches and dust. Ceaseless Discharge dropped with him, but was eerily unperturbed; the death of the Bed seemingly his lone priority. Quelaag cut away the now-fragile tentacles that had trapped her and used her relatively nimble agility to lunge at the nearby wall and cling to it before gravity pulled her down with it. She looked downwards just in time to see Tarkus and Discharge swallowed by the abyss, with neither of them all too concerned about the grim fact.

Quelaag locked eyes with Discharge, her eyes frantic and apologetic. Though she was ravaged with cuts and injuries from the Bed's thorns, she scampered downwards along the wall after it.

=][=

'Fuck you!' Bob yelled as he tagged the leg of a giant skeleton with a snapping jab. The hit knee-capped the monster and it tumbled forward before it could swing its huge Falchion at him. Bob promptly decapitated it with a swift uppercut. By then, Bob was riding on a ludicrous wave of exhilaration and terror. The fear was still there, that mind-numbing worry of a possibly horrible death, but the more he fought, the more he belied his own weak mentality and limited strength, the more that crippling emotion dulled deeper and deeper until he simply stopped giving a fuck about it.

Was that what it felt like to be a warrior like Solaire? To fight and destroy the enemy using fear as a mentality for _not dying_?

It was an incredible feeling, no doubt. Even as a herd of rampaging dog skeletons barrelled at his defensive line, Bob didn't freeze, didn't hesitate. He dropped the closest one to him by ducking under its wild swipe and countering with a left hook as Solaire followed with a well-timed dropkick to the stunned beast.

The Giant Phalanx moved in after them, breaking the next wave of attackers like an indestructible floodgate. Bob did start to tire by that point, but Stacy's coordination was astounding. A nearby Darkmoon officer ordered him and Solaire to pull back briefly so they could catch their breath while their previous positions were filled by reserve forces. Some Darkmoons acting in support roles hurriedly passed around shot glasses of Estus for quick consumption to those with injuries, and for people like Bob, a quick oral application of a disgusting Green Blossom was in rapid order.

Bob gagged as the bitter herb stung like acidic coffee down his throat, but the effect of the plant as it entered his system was just terrific. He felt like he could run a marathon backwards…on his hands…on _fire._ His skin prickled and tingled with the unnatural energy spike and just like that he was itching to get back into the fight.

'Be at ease, my friend!' Solaire calmed him, though he had to yell the assurance out because of the unbelievable amount of noise. 'Do not tempt the fates with such enthusiasm!'

'Sorry, Sol!' Bob steadied his rapid breathing. 'It just…this feeling! I don't know how to describe it!'

'Tis the high of combat, Young Bob! Channel it, but don't let it consume your will to remain in this world!'

'Right!' Bob did what Solaire suggested, keeping that frenzied instinct of battle in his nerves, but taking several deep breaths to calm it somewhat. He tapped his Caestus together in anticipation, waiting for the call to replace the front line.

'_ARTILLERY! WATCH THE SIDES!' _

Gwyndolin's voice again, the panic and fury in his tone rattled the walls in its intensity. Bob wondered for a short moment what the issue could be; the enemy hadn't even broken through the main gate…how could…?

'Oh you _bastards_.'

It was a phantasmal pincer attack. Everywhere along the upper catwalks on both sides, a ghastly ambush literally phased out of the walls. The Darkmoon sorcerers and Silver Knights didn't even have the time to turn around before their numbers fell to the daggers piercing through the walls and into their exposed backs.

An army of New Londo Ghosts had appeared without warning, howling with despair as they hacked and stabbed their way right through the defensive lines on the upper floors. Some of the Darkmoons and Silver's recovered as best they could from the ambush, but trying to repel them proved completely useless. Swords, spears, and magic just passed right through their ropy ethereal bodies, and to make matters even worse, the ghosts daggers heartlessly ignored the shields raised against them; puncturing several warriors as they crumbled and fell in disbelief.

Bob watched in horror as the battle tipped horribly in the enemies favour before his eyes. The ghost ambush cut the stream of projectiles blanketing the main gate short, and in merciless tandem the numbers pouring through the gate grew monstrously in size and ferocity. The Darkwraiths leaped at the Giants, swarming them as they slashed and stabbed at their exposed legs. The first line of Darkmoons and Knights moved in to try and counter them, but the tide of monsters was already pushing them back, cutting the Giants off from their support. One after the other, their gleaming gold forms disappeared a midst the swirling wraith violence, just as their skeleton forces pushed through and attacked the support units directly.

A small explosion erupted in the upper balcony passage followed by a glut of dark blue smoke, and out of the haze came Arcadia and a small handful of assorted soldiers. They were in a state of disorganized panic as they jumped to the ground floor after the first staircase, and Bob realized what had just happened.

Their second front had fallen. As if the army of murderous spectre's wasn't bad enough, now they were going to be swarmed from two sides by the enemy. The way things were looking, it seemed there was no choice but to—

'_FALL BACK! To the secondary chamber!' _

Bob felt equal amounts of relief and shame at the order. But there was no time to question his own bravery as he turned his back to the front and retreated; clumsily running shoulder to shoulder as he and his allies squeezed through the smaller gateway to their last bastion of defence.

Immediately after entering he saw Gwyndolin standing at the edge of the balcony at the far end; his Crown of the Dark Sun shining maliciously. A small glimmer of confidence reinforced his will when he met Priscilla's eyes for a brief moment. She stood firm amongst her small army, with a much larger force of Anor Londo's reserves integrated with it. The upper catwalks were already brimming with the shining tips of arrows and glinting catalysts, ready to unleash every long range attack they had at the smaller chokepoint.

The lines parted to let Solaire, Bob and the bulk of the main forces through before closing around them; effectively forming their final bastion of defence. Bob was lucky enough to have Priscilla to his right, Solaire on the left, and Arcadia and the remains of her force forming a line in front of him. Their presence was a small comfort, but against the enemy already leaping and snarling up the small staircase, it wasn't enough to quell the raw shock of mortality that Bob was experiencing. He was seeing his life; his entire stupid and pointless life play out like a second-rate picture book in his muddled brain. It just made his situation even more insane. How had he come from literally the most boring and uneventful life someone could live to facing down the forces of darkness with a coalition of warriors from every spatial dimension?

Bob hadn't noticed at first, but he was hyperventilating, his hands trembling slightly beneath his Caeustus gauntlets. He hated that fear. That weakness. But Solaire's teachings quickly channelled through his form, morphing that fear, _transforming _it…

'YOU'RE ALREADY DEAD!'

…into rage.

The first of the enemies heads popped up as they climbed the staircase and was immediately disintegrate by a caustic convergence of physical might and magic. Like the endless torrent at the main gate they poured inside with unholy abandon, and just as before the rabbled lines at their front were torn and twisted apart by their artillery. Azure beams of soul arrows cut into them at such a furious frequency it was like a constant beam of focused destruction devouring every beast that set foot inside. It seemed almost ridiculous that they could push through the barrage, but they did so all the same; forcing through with their sheer malice and numbers.

'Hold them! Hold them or _die!'_

Gwyndolin's words of encouragement, though he did fire off a huge bulb of dark energy for emphasis. His own projectile tore down from the balcony and ripped through the monsters in a straight line before gutting into the meat of its force and exploding outward spectacularly.

The ghosts from earlier tried the same trick on their artillery, but Stacy was working her magic like clockwork. A line of Darkmoons covering the walls were already buzzing on Transient Curses, and so when the spectres peeled out to try and get the drop on them they were instead stabbed and torn to pieces as the varied cursed warriors ripped into their otherwise frail un-bodies.

Still, even with that, the Darkwraiths simply muscled through the mayhem to attack their lines directly. Their forces grew more varied as well, now backed by formations of Giant Skeletons firing arrows the size of harpoons up at their own artillery, engaging in a mortar free-for-all as the air was congested horribly by clashing projectiles.

There were no giants to stem the tide by then, so when the Darkwraiths pushed through Gwyndolin gave the order to engage them directly, resulting in a hurricane of bloody close-quarters melee.

Priscilla's army of hollow rejects more than proved their worth in the ensuing battle. The dreglings with mutated pus sacks for torsos leaped into the enemy by way of an improvised catapult with King Jeremiah's head. When they landed in the thick of the enemy, they were predictably ripped apart only for their skewered bodies to belch out a thick red toxic spray in every direction. The Darkwraiths shrieked and gagged as the toxin crippled their fighting ability, making easy prey for sword and spear as they staggered around uselessly.

Not to be undone, Priscilla's wheel skeletons rolled into the fray from both sides as the monsters tangled with the Darkmoons and Knights. They cackled in glee as their spiked wheels shredded into the Darkwraiths like an Iiato through Londo butter. Because they were so nimble, they could cleave a line through the enemy and swing back before the enemy had even raised their swords.

Bob did his part too as he moved forward to relieve the frontline. Already drunk on fear and Green Blossom, he swung his gauntlets out in a vicious flurry at every monster within his reach. Shouting and cursing wildly, he planted punch after punch into their faces, parrying their blows and ignoring the spike of pain every time a Giant Skeleton managed to throw him back with a lunging push kick. Sometimes he pushed forward too hard, and found himself overwhelmed only for Priscilla to bail him out with a graceful flourish of her Lifehunt; mutilating the surrounding enemies into paste and flying shards of bone. Solaire would step in after her, cutting down a few more monsters before pulling Bob back into their defensive formation.

'Calm yourself. You cannot win this battle alone!' He lectured sternly.

Bob didn't doubt that simple statement, especially then, when even the steady supply of Green Blossoms and Darkmoons casting the Soothing Sunlight miracle did little to alleviate the scathing amount of pain and exhaustion that his mind was failing to register properly.

Priscilla made her own concern known with an admonishing whip of Bob's flank using her tail. That sharp, exclusive pain snapped Bob out his drunk, furious haze, and he nodded dumbly in acknowledgement, finally falling back so that the reserve forces could relieve him temporarily. Solaire retreated with him; his armour dented and scratched all over, with a thick black ooze glazing almost every inch of his sword.

Bob took the brief downtime to stare in terrified disbelief at the carnage engulfing the front.

_No way in hell was I just in that…_He thought grimly as another wave of Giant Skeletons smashed into their defensive line of Silver Knights. Their size and numbers almost buckled the Knights with their initial charge, and no matter how many were mutilated by the storm of silver swords and spears, they just kept coming.

'How many are there…?' Bob murmured to himself, realizing that every Darkmoon and Silver that fell was a costly loss. Why were the Darkwraiths so numerous compared to themselves? Was it human nature to relish the act of invading dimensions; solely for the purpose of the gratification of senseless murder?

'Their numbers will dwindle. They _must._' Solaire reassured him. Bob was honestly surprised he'd heard his concern over the unbelievable noise.

'Yeah…' Was his weak reply, unable to bring any false bravado to bear. Solaire didn't call him out on it. And out of everything happening in that crazed moment, Solaire's lack of a positive rebuttal worried him most.

=][=

'Something's wrong…' Stacy seethed, her wrists creaking from overuse as she danced the cards on the desk in an endless crescendo of barely-contained madness. It was pushing her mental limits to keep track of everything in that battle; Gwynevere slugging toe-to-toe with Seath the Immortal, Solaire, Bob and Arcadia duking it out on the frontlines, Gwyndolin flinging an insurmountable number of powerful spears of sorcery right into the gut of the enemy.

Those Giant Skeletons. Why were so many of those Giant fucking sk—

'Oh no. No, no, no, no, NO! Too soon!' She screamed.

The skeletons. They weren't just swarming in en masse, they were _the same ones._ Coming back again and again. Necromancers. Nito. _NITO. _

'Shit! Gwynie! Gravelords' already shown up! Are "they" ready? '

Gwyndolin didn't look up for a second in the midst of his own hellfire of projectiles, but nevertheless managed a coherent response.

'They're ready enough! Two minutes at best! If they fail, this battle's already lost!'

That was enough for Stacy. Without another word she put her last two trump cards into play. It was all or nothing then. Pretty soon, it wouldn't matter how she moved the cards. As much as she hated to admit it, the rest was in the hands of that merciless bitch, Fate.

Gwyndolin spared a second's glance at the cards Stacy put on the field, immediately roaring out the appropriate command.

'Gemini unit, GO!'

=][=

Right in tune with Gwyndolin's voice, a pair of pillars in the larger outer chamber broke out of their reinforced Chameleon spells; right in the thick of the surging Darkwraith forces. The monsters initially didn't know what to make of the pillars bursting apart in a gloopy golden mess to reveal a pair of coffins standing upright in their place.

The coffin's, easily larger than the Giants who had walked that chamber before, broke apart at the same time, revealing an instantly familiar duo. And even though the pair was completely surrounded, it didn't stop either of them of from unleashing hell.

Super Ornstein and Over Smough, crazed by their undeath, driven to an insane extreme through the will of the Dark Sun, instantly broke into the enemy lines with merciless abandon.

Ornstein wasn't complete; his armor still caked in his own blood and exuding an aura of dark blue energy, but nevertheless managed to cut a straight line into the enemy; stomping Darkwraith's into the ground with his taloned feet and blasting apart skeletons with swift swipes with his spear.

Smough looked even worse. His whole head was missing, spewing out an uncontrollable flare of the same energy consuming his compatriot out of the severed stump that was his chunky neck. That didn't stop him from lowering his hammer down and brutally bulldozing every creature that happened to exist in its general vicinity.

At first, their attacks seemed random. Destructive but random. But every horde of monsters they cut down and squashed into paste revealed a deadly pattern.

They were pushing through, only killing what had to be killed, and ignoring the stragglers that managed to plunge their Darkswords and Falchions into their already battered bodies.

And there, at the very back of the Darkwraith forces, was Nito. The clumsy pillar of bones death and disease was too caught up his own dance of the necromantic arts to notice the pair cutting a bee line towards him.

The Darkwraiths, seemingly sharing a hive mind of some sort, converged on the two with increased brutality; throwing their entire bodies at the two in every effort to curb their momentum.

Over Smough drove his whole, fat mass into the fray first, crushing an innumerable amount of the beasts under his hammer and stomping feet both, but a leaping force of Darkwraiths and Giant Skeletons consumed him like a hellish tornado. They stabbed and maimed at every exposed point of the cannibalistic knight, bringing him down in flourish of violence.

But that was all the opening Super Ornstein needed. Even as his own mutilated body was riddled by like a pincushion with Darkswords, the Dragonslayer Knight leapt onto the already-toppling corpse of his overweight ally, drawing whatever energy was left as he drove his feet into his body. The monsters swarmed him the second he flattened Smough's body, plunging their weapons into his body in a last ditch attempt to destroy him.

Ornstein roared maniacally, his supposedly ceremonial helmet coming to life as he reaped a chilling tear of a scream in the chamber.

Nito himself launched a Gravelord Sword into Ornstein that effectively skewered the Knight right down the middle; the ethereal orange blade bursting out of the nape of his neck.

That attack seemed to stop him, enough for Nito to let out a cackling screech of enjoyment.

Ornstein suddenly blazed to life for one last glorious moment. His Dragonslayer spear almost exploded in his remaining arm in a dazzling blast of electric energy before he hurled the whole weapon across the expanse of the chamber.

Nito had never been the most spry archfiend, and in that horrible moment it cost him more than ever.

Just as Ornstein was consumed by the Darkwraith forces, it did nothing to stop the flight of his spear as it cleared the length of the chamber in a split-second and impale itself right through the left eye socket of the Lord of the Undead.

Nito squirmed for a moment before the whole tower of bones and blackness that made up his body just blasted apart when Ornstein's' spear exploded from within its torso.

The skewed helm of Ornstein seemed to twist into a satisfied smirk before it disappeared amongst a staccato of frenzied blades.

But his spear wasn't the only thing to leave an impression. Soon after Nito had been reduced to a cloud of bonedust and scattered electricity, Ornstein's own body took its cue to detonate, followed immediately by Smough's.

In that crushing, blinding instant the entire chamber was alight with thunder and destruction. Ornstein and Smough took with them the entirety of the forces occupying the spacious room.

The blast was so fierce that it bled into the room the Darkwraiths were trying to break into; enveloping their lead forces to die screaming as their splattered remains spurted over the defensive lines of Anor Londo.

=][=

The shockwave from the blast hit Bob flush, nearly knocking him to the floor. But for once in his life he fought the nature of equilibrium and stayed on his feet. His ears were still ringing from the blast and when that passed he was met a with a merciful spell of silence.

The battle had stalled; the passage at the far end now nothing but a scorched hole choked up with black tatters of Darkwraith flesh and hefty piles of scattered bones. A thick smoke permeated the area beyond the passage, crackling with a diffuse of fading golden bolts.

'Don't drop your guard!' Gwyndolin yelled from his post, his unnecessarily magnified voice even more grating without the symphony of battle to dull it. 'Reform the lines and move in slowly!'

Bob had rested enough. He bounded forward and took his previous position at the front, with Solaire quickly joining him. Even from that position, he couldn't quite make out what was left in the main chamber, so he shuffled forward within a tight-knit unit of Darkmoons, with a phalanx of Silver Spears acting as a bulwark.

'We're going in there?' Bob couldn't stop from muttering, but didn't falter in his advance.

It was Arcadia who replied, having joined the unit bringing up the rear.

'We must destroy the enemy here.' She said humourlessly. 'Or did you want to simply wait for the sinners to regroup?'

Priscilla moved into place to the far right of Bob's position, surrounded by layers of her private army, with her faithful wheel skeletons slowly rolling along at her sides to match her pace. Bob felt his exhausted heart flutter painfully as he looked at her. Whilst everyone else was covered in oily Wraith blood, bonedust, and chunks of who-knows-what, Priscilla alone had managed to remain unmarred by the filth of bloody combat.

He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her and back to the front, just as their forces came to a stop at the foot of the staircase leading back to the main chamber.

The dust and debris was settling, revealing a horrendous mess of mutilated beasts splattered over every tile of the huge room. Two smoking craters were punched into the ground near the middle, the epicentre of the destruction.

They'd finally managed to break the enemies charge, Bob concluded with an exasperated sigh. The last wisps of smoke had cleared, reinforcing his thought. None of the enemy was left standing, or in one piece. And nothing was arriving into the chamber from either of the two entrances.

He noticed too that the deep rumbling that had accompanied the fight between Gwynevere and Seath was still present, albeit at a much lower volume. No doubt they had taken their battle elsewhere at some point during all the fighting Bob had been preoccupied with.

'The Chosen is still here.' Arcadia hissed abruptly, breaking Bob from his reverie. She strode hurriedly to the front of the line, standing on her own in front of their forces.

'Ms Arcadia, are you certain?' Solaire asked doubtfully but kept his shield up all the same.

She didn't answer him and walked further onwards by herself.

Bob thought to try and ease her worry with a quip about the Chosen disguising himself as a jar, but noticed something unsettling by pure chance.

There, far up in the top-left corner of the chamber _something_ moved. A greyish, disfigured limb phasing into the wall soundlessly and disappearing. Bob blinked hard to focus his vision, detecting something even more worrying. The shadows, the darkness itself was shifting around them. It was subtle, appearing as a trick of the light because of the multitude of glowing sources of it.

It was moving. It was _surrounding _them.

Bob didn't pause to scream out.

'BACK! MOVE BACK! _NOW!_'

Everyone turned to him in surprise, not expecting him of all people to yell orders. Arcadia aided his blunt command with her own.

'He's right! GO!'

They fell back in a mad scramble up the steps, just as the shadows dancing in the torch and sorcery light suddenly twisted violently towards them.

A deep, thunderous howl filled Anor Londo as they managed to blitz back into the room they came from. Bob quickly turned back around to face the opening and see just what they'd escaped from.

He saw nothing. Literally nothing. An un-light so thick that it looked more like a physical wall of emptiness. It'd filled up the whole passageway, nearly trapping them inside.

But then, what light was left in their own sanctuary began to flicker out. Every torch along the walls flared a bright purple before extinguishing completely.

'Close ranks! Every side! It's them!'

Them. Bob knew what that meant. Who else could it be at that point?

His hands were trembling again, but not just from fear. The temperature in the room had plummeted. Bob could already see plumes of his frosty breath dance through the slits of his helmet visor.

More horrific howling's of the undead rang out through the chamber from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The cold dipped further, blanketing weapons and armor with icy slick.

The forces of Anor Londo huddled together, pointing their weapons in every direction.

The howling stopped, the cold reached its lowest point, but luckily a few orbs of light held against the abyss.

And then they waited.


End file.
